Petits Moments
by only breath
Summary: A collection of 50 little moments featuring our favourite serpent and lion, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Apparently addicting. COMPLETE
1. His Invasion of Her Peace

**Notes:**

-These are all for Gamma Orionis' OTP Boot Camp  
-I cannot proofread properly to save my life  
-All are completedly unrelated, except the ones whose titles end in "2", meaning that they are related to the installment before it  
-I randomly swap tenses between installments, for no particular reason  
-In some, Draco and Hermione are already in a relationship, and in others they are not  
-I've got plenty of fluff, angst and humour. And general! Never forget general!  
-All are pretty much plotless  
-I write whatever idea comes to me when I see my prompt, whether or not it is a good idea  
-Now start reading!

* * *

**His Invasion of Her Peace**

The library was always a desolate place on Friday nights. It was exactly to Hermione's liking; there were no loud giggles elicited from the throats of young girls, nor were there any hushed whispers from other students who were muttering impolite things about Hermione to each other. There was just her, the books, and the warm evening sunlight that flooded the library.

The library was her haven. It was the only constant in her life – the only thing that stayed the same. No matter how many classmates were jerks to her, or how many times Harry almost died, or how frequently Ron angered her to no end, the library never changed. Inanimate and still, but always buzzing with electricity. The knowledge bursting from those pages affected her like nothing else would.

Books were her own personal drug.

She saw them. All the time. When she was eating breakfast or doing any routine job, a particular sentence that couldn't leave her mind would once again be read inside her brain, like a never-ending book. Her whole body was alight with painful flames that licked at her skin, making her itch to grab a book whenever one wasn't in her hands. Hermione Granger was addicted to books, it was true. And she was sure it was a chronic addiction.

The familiar feeling of excitement raced through her fingers as she pushed open the library doors. As soon as those doors were open, the aroma of old books assaulted her nose.

And she loved it.

As usual, it was empty, except for Madam Pince, who acknowledged Hermione with a stiff nod of the head. Hermione rushed over eagerly to any random bookshelf, dragging her fingers softly across the dusty spines of ancient books. As soon as a title interested her, she grabbed that book and immersed herself in a new world of knowledge.

"Granger."

Her whole body tensed up at that one word. Who wouldn't be able to recognise that aristocratic, slightly mocking voice?

She pretended not to have heard him and kept her eyes on the page, reading the same line over and over again. His shoes were visible in her peripheral vision, coming closer and closer. Friday evenings in the library had never failed her before. So why was it now that the cosmos had decided to disturb her night, which she had planned to be a peaceful session of pure, raw reading?

And it had to be _him_. Ron had infuriated her worse than ever today and her whole body was filled with an acrid, bitter feeling of hate towards him, but she knew that those feelings always dissipated over time. For now, though, she was silently seething, and that snake was slithering towards her, obviously prepared for a round of verbal sparring.

"Mudblood."

Hermione wasn't affected in the least by that little word. She slowly closed her book and faced her intruder.

"Yes, Malfoy? How may I be of assistance to you this evening? Surely you have other, easier targets to bully. A lone first-grader, perhaps?" Hermione sighed.

"They're not as fun to provoke as you are. None are up to the whole witty banter thing," Draco said, shrugging.

Hermione walked away. "I'm not going to give you what you want. Go find someone else to have a 'witty banter' with."

She walked with determined footsteps, but, as usual, he managed to stop her in her tracks with a few simple words. Oh, that devious mouth of his.

"Weasley on your mind?"

Hermione was startled that he had managed to figure out what was causing Hermione's slight touchiness this evening. Was he psychic or something? She turned around to face him angrily. He was smirking mischievously, his hands shoved casually into his pockets.

"It's absolutely none of your business," Hermione snapped.

Draco chuckled. "Can't you see that I'm making it my business? What has Weasley done now?"

Hermione glared at him. "Go away."

"No."

Hermione sighed. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to tell him. Maybe it might get rid of him.

"If you must know, he insulted my love of reading and my hair in one sentence."

"Well, you can't blame. I'm sure he couldn't resist, what with that mop of hair on your head..." Draco commented, amused.

"Excuse me, but some people are not born with perfect hair! Some people have the misfortune of having a bad hair day _every_ day. It's not like we _choose_ to have unattractive hair!" Hermione defended furiously. "And you can't say that you have a perfect head of hair, either."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Really, now?"

"I – I – go away!" Hermione sputtered, trying as hard as she could to voluntarily stop the blood rushing into her face. She had probably just made the most inaccurate comeback of all. If there was anyone in the school with a perfect head of hair, it was Draco Malfoy, and everybody knew it. Including Hermione.

"_Someone_ doesn't seem to want company. No wonder Weasley doesn't like you."

"What do you when you say he _doesn't like me? _Of course he likes me. Well, not in that way, but as a friend. We have disputes and arguments all the time. They're always resolved afterwards," Hermione said defiantly, folding her arms.

"What really baffles me, Granger, is how he stands the stink of your dirty blood. How can he eat breakfast beside you each morning without vomiting from that putrid smell–?" Draco taunted.

"Shut your mouth," Hermione spat venomously, breathing rapidly, "or you will regret it."

Her wand was a hair's width away from his throat. She grasped the wooden tool determinedly, her knuckles turning white from the strength she exuded by steadily holding the wand. A fire was ignited in her eyes, one of passion and hatred.

Sadly, Draco seemed to have toughened up more since third grade, when she had held a wand to his face and he'd whimpered like a pathetic puppy. Now, he calmly grabbed the end of the wand and pushed it down.

"You'd better think before you do, Granger, or who knows what type of trouble you'll get in," he chuckled, smirking, and then he left, leaving Hermione confused and with her blood boiling.

Oh, that prejudiced prat! Hermione would get him one day.

She was sure of it.


	2. Hermione's Fortune

**Hermione's Fortune**

He wanted to practice. With her.

And for some reason, she absolutely fine with it. In fact, the idea excited her. How many girls lusted after him, without any hope of ever going out with him? And it was with her he'd chosen to practice. Out of all the girls in the school.

Her, Hermione Granger, with Draco Malfoy.

Well, it would only seem like that, anyway. There was no way the two would ever sincerely like each other. It would go against the laws of nature.

To the outside world, however, they would seem like a dreamy couple. Forbidden love, the snake and the lion, whatever. In truth, it would be the fakest relationship in existence.

"_Practice what, Malfoy?" Hermione asked suspiciously. He had cornered her, and she could do nothing but face him._

"_I'd like to ask out Pansy. But I'm not quite sure how I can do it. I need your help."_

This morning, he had given her flowers. Hermione's heart almost burst – which was an unnatural, unfamiliar feeling that she disliked – as she took the gardenias from Draco's hands. It was such an uncharacteristic move from him that it startled Hermione. Then again, the fact that he had seeked out help from her was uncharacteristic.

"Pansy loves gardenias," Draco had said, grinning.

Hermione couldn't help but be disappointed. No boy had ever given her flowers, or even shown any interest in her, and of course this whole practice relationship made her feel wanted, if only for display. At least it was something.

Then he had asked her how Pansy might like to be asked out.

"I don't know," Hermione had replied, shrugging. "I'm not Pansy. From what I know about her, she'd probably like something big and open for the whole world to see. Like, putting her name on a billboard or something. But I'm really not sure what she'd want."

"What's a billboard?"

"Never mind," Hermione had said hastily. "In any case, you should be the one to figure out how Pansy should be asked out. You're probably the closest person to her – or at least the closest male."

Draco's expression had turned thoughtful. "Well, if someone you liked asked you out, how would you like it to go down?"

"I'd want something private, I guess. And something to do with things I really like."

And then they had gone on their first practice date. It had scared Hermione like nothing else before, because even though she was sixteen, she was so new... to everything.

He'd taken her to Honeydukes, and the mountains of candy they'd bought turned out to be their lunch. Afterwards, both felt sick from the sweet lollies (and maybe the Cockroach Clusters had helped a bit, too), but it had been fun. They chatted, mostly about Hogwarts and plans for the future. And on the walk back from Hogsmeade, he'd given her some more gardenias and other flowers. It was an extravagantly arranged bouquet of the most beautiful flowers she'd ever seen.

Then he took her hand and Hermione walked stiffly with him back to school.

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione asked, glancing down at their entwined fingers. Sand and marble.

"Practice, Granger. How many times must I tell you that?" he answered incredulously.

Silence ensued.

"I hope you don't call Pansy by her last time. If you ask her out she'd probably like you to call her Pansy."

"Thanks for the advice," he'd said.

And now it was a week after that. Another trip to Hogsmeade meant another date. Hermione was in her dorm, her nerves getting all jittery. She'd put on a dress for the first time in years, and it looked great. But she was so agitated that it hurt.

A soft, light blue cardigan topped the cream dress, and a necklace of gold and rubies and emeralds hung down her neck. She hadn't chosen the rubies and emeralds because of the fact that she and Draco were in Gryffindor and Slytherin, but later she thought it to be a nice piece of jewellery to wear on their date because of this. Her hair was loose, but it was fine, because her bushy hair seemed to have morphed more into curls over the years.

It was snowing outside, and Hermione's usually rational self was too busy being scared to put on more clothes.

"You look great, Hermione," Parvati gasped.

Hermione smiled weakly and Parvati linked her arm through hers.

"Let's go," Parvati said excitedly and they marched all the way down the steps and outside of the castle.

Draco found Hermione and his lips curved upwards. Hermione could hear Parvati sigh at the sight of him. Not that she could really blame her. As he had on their first date, he looked amazing. Too bad it was only a fake date.

"I hope you don't mind, Patil, but may I steal my dear Hermione?" Draco asked, holding out his hand. Hermione noticed the use of her first name.

"Of course," Parvati replied dazedly.

Hermione put her hand in his. As they began to walk, Parvati smacked her butt and whispered, "Go get him, girl! Be ruthless!"

Then she giggled, Hermione wishing she could make her eyes fire lasers at Parvati.

"Aren't you cold?" Draco asked, noticing Hermione's lack of clothing in this cold weather. True, she had a cardigan, but it hardly helped.

"Not really," Hermione replied truthfully.

"You're a strange one, you are."

"Thanks," Hermione replied distractedly, having not properly taken in Draco's comment. She was still feeling agitated and worried about doing a good job on their practice date.

"It's Christmas, you know."

Hermione blushed immediately. She'd forgotten a present for him.

"It's all right," he laughed, as though he had heard her thoughts. "I don't need any gifts. We're having a proper lunch today," Draco said, leading her away from the main group.

"Where?"

"A Chinese place."

Hermione grinned. She loved Chinese, and she'd told Draco exactly that on their first date.

He led her to a lively-looking restaurant with a magnificent illustration of a golden dragon across it. They entered and Hermione's body was instantly greeted by welcoming warmth.

They sat down and Hermione browsed the menu.

"No need," Draco said. He called a waiter over and ordered meals for both of them, making Hermione blush again. She may have rambled a little bit about her preferences in Chinese restaurants to Draco in Honeydukes.

She sat in her seat awkwardly, not knowing what to say. She was a horrible conversationalist. No wonder no one had ever asked her out!

Draco, however, sensed her discomfort and asked her lots of questions. When the food came, the silence was surprisingly comfortable.

Hermione ate her noodles quietly. When she finished, she grabbed one of the two fortune cookies.

"That one's mine," Draco said quickly.

"Why?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Because it's bigger," Draco replied with a grin, and swapped their fortune cookies. Hermione rolled her eyes and broke hers open.

"What's your fortune?" Hermione asked.

"_Good things come to those who wait. _Yours?"

Hermione looked at her paper.

"_Will you be my girlfriend?_"

Draco looked scarily hopeful. Hermione's heart sank to the pit of her stomach.

"Pansy will love that," she muttered sadly.

And then before she knew it, she was out of her seat.

"I can't do this anymore, Draco," she choked, holding back tears, and ran out of the restaurant. It had taken until the moment he'd broken her heart for her to realise that she liked him.

The bitter snow burned her skin as she ran. She could hear Draco, his thick shoes pounding the snow.

"Hermione! Wait!" Draco pleaded.

Hermione turned around.

"What?" she spat poisonously. "What are you going to do now?"

"I... I thought you might like it. You said you wanted to be asked out privately, and you wanted it to be done with things you like. You like fortune cookies."

"I bet _Pansy_ doesn't, though," Hermione growled, hating the feeling of saying that girl's name.

"Exactly! I didn't think you'd be so upset, though," Draco said.

"How could I not be upset? I've just been your practice toy this whole time. But I wanted it to be _real_. I always did! I didn't realise it at first, but now I know. I guess it's too late, though," Hermione muttered, turning around.

Draco grabbed her arm. "Wait! You still think I want Pansy?"

"Is that you, Sherlock?" Hermione said sarcastically.

"At first, I did want Pansy, but after our first date I realised how much I liked hanging out with you. And then suddenly I realised how beautiful you were, and witty and intelligent, too," Draco confessed. "I am asking _you_ to be my girlfriend, not Pansy."

"You think I'm beautiful?" was all that Hermione could say.

Draco shut her up by leaning towards her.

It couldn't have been a more perfect kiss.

They stood beneath the snow, Draco wiping away Hermione's tears as his lips moved tenderly beneath hers. Every inch of Hermione was on fire, and his touch burned even hotter. She _ached_ for him. Her hands moved to the back of his head, and she played with his hair as they kissed.

When they pulled apart, Hermione had stopped crying, and she brushed the snowflakes out of his snow-white hair.

"Yes, I do think you're beautiful," Draco said.

Hermione couldn't help but lean in again.


	3. When She's Silent

**When She's Silent**

He sleeps on the couch for a reason.

He shares a common room with Hermione. They never speak. Never utter a word. Only silently acknowledge each other. Sometimes Draco feels like the silence is killing him, but he doesn't ever want to disturb his angel. Not when she's in her armchair, reading peacefully while the firelight makes her skin glows.

She's a goddess, and he's afraid of displeasing her.

He sleeps on the couch because his dear Hermione helps him, even if she doesn't know it. At night, he sees the light creeping out from under the door, and she sings. She has the voice of an angel. She is an angel. His angel. Her voice overwhelms him, sends him into a dazed state, like the sweetest drug. Hermione doesn't know that Draco can hear her. But he's glad that he can, because his sleeps are always deep, and dreamless. She has that kind of power over him.

_My angel..._

And then sometimes, there is no light behind the door, and all he can hear is the soft sobs that wrench at his heart, and he wants to go into her bedroom and comfort her and tell her everything is okay. But that would be a lie, and Draco doesn't want to deceive his goddess.

When sweet Hermione is crying, his sleep is infested with terrifying nightmares that leave him sweating and screaming. Visions of murder and torture flash through his mind.

Sometimes the dreams are worse. They show Hermione, but she's not his angel. She's a different Hermione. Her eyes are lifeless and she drags her nails down his arm slowly, her lips turning upwards. She has skin as white as snow and lips as red as poison. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like it at all. She whispers sweet nothings in his ear, and it burns. It burns just like ice.

And she's kissing him, and it hurts so much.

_Stop it! Stop it!_

It's like a thousand daggers are jabbing him and he doesn't know why this is happening.

When the Hermione of his nightmares pulls away, her eyes are black. Blacker than the night sky.

It scares him and he wakes up, breathing hard.

The silence is tugging at his skin.

Hermione isn't singing. And she's not crying, either.

Draco gets up. He fumbles around in the dark and opens the door to his bedroom.

His dear, sweet Hermione is lying in her bed, surrounded by a pool of crimson. Her wrists are sliced mercilessly and her hair is everywhere. Her skin is ghostly pale.

Draco thinks she's never been more beautiful. Not when she sits by the fire, not when she smiles and her face is lit up like a thousand candles.

No. She's so beautiful when she's at complete peace.

He finds a note clutched in her hand.

_Dear Draco,_

_Tell my friends that their Hermione is gone, to be replaced by someone better. No longer is she the girl that everyone can rely on - she's faded away. She broke, and she couldn't be fixed. The wind swept away her broken shards._

_Tell them that they broke her._

_-Hermione_

It's then that Draco realizes the expression on Hermione's face.

_Where is my Hermione? Where's my goddess?_

_Somebody help me! I need help! She's gone and she's not coming back!_

Draco dives into the murky depths of insanity.

He starts to fade away, too.

Because Hermione's mouth is set into a twisted, cruel smile, and it's this simple expression shows that everybody's lovely Hermione has disappeared.


	4. Insanity

**Insanity**

His soul is as black as that of a Dementor.

He knows it.

He is a cruel, cruel monster. No one will ever truly love him.

Not his parents. Not his friends. Not Pansy, or Astoria, or the girl writhing on the floor, screaming out to any deities who would care to listen. Her whole body shakes like she's being electrocuted, but he knows that the pain is a hundred times worse. He knows what it's like to have the curse wash over you, ensnare your snares, send you to the brink of insanity.

And the girl below him is paying the price for something she can't help; her tainted blood. Her eyes are dry because they can't cry. Not when every other part of her body has descended to the fiery pits of Hell. The pale skin of her arm is stained with a single word.

_Mudblood._

She lays on the floor completely still when the curse is lifted. Her body, although it doesn't look like it on the outside, has born torn and shredded. She is battered, and she will never be the same again. Draco is sure.

His aunt puts the curse on her again. Once more, screams echo through the Manor.

He finds something pulling at his heart. Fright?

_Guilt?_

_Maybe there is hope for me after all_, he thinks as he watches Hermione's consciousness fade.


	5. The Venetian Boat Song

**The Venetian Boat Song**

Hermione hears the music. She is drawn to it. Her entire being aches for more music.

She opens the door just a crack – just wide enough so that she can see who's playing. It's Draco. His fingers fly over the piano keys graciously, the moonlight illuminating his pale skin and making him look ethereal. His hair is everywhere, and his uniform is creased and dirty.

There is something about him, though, that manages to tug up the corners of her lips. He looks so calm. All his troubles are washed away in that little moment of music as he softly plays the Venetian Boat Song. His face and body is completely relaxed. In this moment, he's not a vicious murderer. He's not a prejudiced Slytherin.

He's just Draco.

Hermione wonders why he can't be like this all the time.

And then the song ends, and so does Draco's moment of peace. Hermione retreats into the darkness. Draco's eyes flicker over to the door and he can't help but secretly smile.

* * *

A/N: Look up the Venetian Boat Song (Opus 19 No. 6) on YouTube. It's so beautiful.


	6. Walls

**Walls**

Draco wondered if Hermione was really as intelligent as she seemed. So he devised a test.

He cornered her in the hallway. Her hair was crazily floating everywhere, the sign of a long day at school. She looked like a mad scientist. Her face immediately darkened when Draco approached her.

"What do you want?" she said rudely, hugging her books to her chest.

"I want you to get out of my way, Mudblood," Draco sneered cruelly.

Hermione had never looked more indignant. "Sorry, but weren't you the one who approached _me?_"

Draco could tell that she was imagining vultures feeding off a carcass – the carcass being his body – or something as gruesome and painful as that. Her mouth started to spout insults like venom, and Draco stood casually, his usual smirk plastered onto his face.

She had failed the test. She didn't know that Draco didn't want to hurt her, that he didn't want to smirk or sneer or make her cry. She hadn't succeeded in seeing past his façade.

His walls had been crumbling under the pressure of _everything_. He was sure of it. The cracks grew larger each day, and Draco was finding it hard to keep up the image of the Mudblood-hating, cruel, superior Draco Malfoy on display for everyone.

"You disgusting creature," he spat, sounding disgusted. "How dare you walk on the face of this Earth?"

"You know what, Malfoy? You're just an arrogant prick who struts around the school like he owns the place, and you insult and bully people to feel better about yourself. It's true isn't it?" Hermione demanded thunderously.

It saddened Draco to know that she thought of him like that. He wished that Hermione could see through the cracks of his walls before it was too late.


	7. Descent Into Darkness

**Descent Into Darkness**

* * *

_**white**_

* * *

"Help the elves! Do something good!"

Draco can't understand how Hermione is so pure.

If he had to label her by a colour, it would be white.

She stands beside the doors to the Great Hall, holding a box of S.P.E.W. badges and trying to persuade people to help the elves. Her attempts are futile, though. Doesn't she know that no one else will join, because no one else is as pure as her?

She's an angel. She cares about everyone and everything.

Doesn't she know that all angels eventually become corrupt?

He mutters a few words of poison to her and she struggles to hold back her tears.

* * *

_**red**_

* * *

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

Something has changed about Hermione. She isn't acting like she usually does, and it confuses Draco slightly. He sits back all the time, watching her, observing her. He notices that she's slowly becoming someone else – someone full of fire, and passion.

If he had to label her by a colour, it would be red.

He watches her during breakfast. She screams profanities at Weasley, who has obviously angered her again like he usually does. Everyone watches, some amused, some frightened, as Hermione yells as loud as her lungs permit her to.

Then she storms out of the Great Hall, eyes blazing with hatred. Everyone returns to their conversations, apart from Draco. He waits a while, and then he exits the Hall.

He finds her easily. And he mutters a few words of poison to her, and she spits back words of venom.

* * *

_**black**_

* * *

It's the Yule Ball.

For the first time in Hermione's life, everyone's eyes are on her. She's in a pretty periwinkle blue dress that shows her smooth, ivory skin. For a lot of people, this is the first time they notice how pretty she is. Draco, on the other hand, has known her beauty since his first day of school, when he saw that brown-haired girl on one of the boat, gazing up in wonder at the castle towering over them.

She's holding the arm of that Bulgarian ape, Krum. His smug expression makes Draco grind his teeth so hard that he's sure his teeth will crumble to dust. Pansy hangs off his own arm like an annoying leech. He hadn't wanted to take her to the ball, but she was the only person he could take.

He wants Hermione.

Her, Krum, and the rest of the stars and their partners move onto the dancefloor. Draco can tell that Hermione doesn't like this music – he can see it in the way that she dances.

He dances with Pansy, trying to distract himself, but she passes him and he notices that she smells like honey and roses. Such an innocent aroma for a corrupt angel.

Draco knows that she accidentally opened the wrong door, and the Devil came wondering in.

The ball passes in a blur. He only vaguely notices Pansy tugging at his arm as he watches Hermione roaring at Weasley. Krum has gone off somewhere. Most people have gone to bed.

Then Hermione stalks off, going back to the dancefloor, no doubt to get rid of her frustrations.

The music is better for her now. She twirls around with her floaty dress, alone but not at all wanting a partner. Does she know the power she has over the men? Does she notice the eyes that watch her? Maybe she does, and she's just being mischievous.

Her dress of silk and satin dances along with her in the semi-darkness. She flashes a secret smile at Draco, and he takes it as his cue to approach her. Like the stars in the sky he could only watch her from afar and never truly get close – until now.

"I suppose it's impossible for a person to be an ugly duckling all the time," Draco mutters.

Hermione all but chuckles, dancing around him in a swirl of periwinkle blue.

Then he mutters a few words of poison to her, and she smirks. She places her hand in his and they dance.

Draco can't help but be drawn to this new Hermione.

If he had to label her by a colour, it would be black.


	8. Mirror

**Mirror**

Draco breaths raggedly, holding onto the sink for support. The bathroom is so empty that Draco feels a world away, pathetically snivelling over his troubles while the rest of the world dances and smiles and lies in sunflower beds under the sun. It's gloomy and dark in the bathroom, but that's okay, because it makes it harder for Draco to see himself in the mirror when he looks up.

The mirror is rusted and cracked in several places, distorting his reflection. He looks like a monster. Because he is one. His white hair is all over the place and his skin has become grey. It's only his uniform that stays presentable.

And he swears that his even his eyes have lost some colour. They used bright, blue and full of fresh malice, but now, they are the eyes of a dead person.

He immediately thinks of Potter when he hears cautious footsteps echoing down the hall. He whips out his wand and fires a random jinx, only to see a startled Hermione Granger standing a few metres away from him.

He turns back to the mirror and studies her reflection only. He feels sick because her face is sad and full of pity, like he's a stray puppy. Draco hates it. And he thinks that it's a sin to make Hermione sad.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

One look at her and his walls break.

He tells her everything.


	9. Night Flight

**Night Flight**

"I don't like this. I do not like this at all."

Hermione stood, wide eyed, beside Draco and his broomstick. There was no way she was getting on that deformed, unsafe stick of bark. It would have been romantic and all, what with the clear, starry night, if Hermione wasn't scared out of her wits. Draco was sitting atop the broomstick, his eyes set in an amused expression.

"Come on. You'll be safe if you just hold onto me."

Hermione took a cautious step towards the thin, flying tree, before sighing and mounting it. She wrapped her arms around Draco's stomach.

"I'm scared," Hermione whispered, feeling pathetic. She would ruin their night with her stupid phobia.

"Don't be. Everything is going to be absolutely fine," Draco promised. "Hold tight."

Hermione tightened her grip, probably making it hard for him to breathe. He kicked off the grassy ground and the broom shot off like a rocket into the night sky.

"WHEN WE REACH SOLID GROUND, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Hermione screamed in Draco's ear, the wind whistling through their hair.

He just laughed.


	10. Snow Days

**Snow Days**

There was something about snow days that Hermione adored.

Maybe it was that wonderful, cosy feeling she got when she was inside, beside a warm fire. Maybe it was the sight of people playing with snow, smiling and enjoying themselves.

Or maybe it was her obsession with hot chocolate. She was absolutely enamoured of the delicious drink, and the way it slid down her throat and pleasantly warmed up her stomach. Nobody had ever figured out the reason of Hermione's love for hot chocolate, and she intended to keep it that way.

On snow days, she could drink as much hot chocolate as she wanted and no one could judge her.

This is the story of how Hermione Granger fell in love with a drink (and almost died of hypothermia).

* * *

"Wake up, Hermione!" Parvati squealed loudly.

Hermione groaned loudly when Parvati chucked a pillow at her relaxed body.

"What?" Hermione croaked weakly.

"It's a snow day!"

Hermione's body shot straight of bed. She ran to the window and pressed her face and hands against the cold glass. Sure enough, beautiful snowflakes were falling from the heavens. A thick, white layer of snow had covered everything exposed to the outside world, including the greenhouses and the trees. The Black Lake had frozen over. Some students had already rushed out of bed and were constructing snow forts.

Then Hermione realised she must look silly with her body pressed to a window, so she pulled away and immediately started to get dressed.

"What are you doing?" Parvati asked curiously, now in the process of giving Lavender a rude awakening.

"I'm going to have some fun in the snow! Come on, Parvati, come with me!"

Parvati shook her head defiantly. "I am not going out there with that kind of temperature."

"Suit yourself, then," Hermione sighed, flinging open the door.

"I'll try to remember to visit you in the Hospital Wing when you get hypothermia," Parvati promised.

"Thanks. That means a lot to me," Hermione said sarcastically, but with a grin. Then she bounded down the stairs, through the empty common room and out the portrait hole.

The corridors were relatively empty as Hermione skipped through them. Most people were either in bed, outside, or in the Great Hall for breakfast.

Hermione fled through the doorway of the Great Hall. She spotted Ginny and grinned like a maniac.

"A snow day! It's a snow day, Ginny!" Hermione squeaked breathlessly, pouring herself a mug of hot chocolate.

"I realised," Ginny said, bobbing her head.

"Come outside with me," Hermione pleaded, before quickly muttering a spell so that her mug wouldn't spill.

"No can do," Ginny refused apologetically. "Too cold for my liking."

Hermione groaned, but bid her friend goodbye and jogged outside of the castle. She was feeling exceptionally joyous today.

Her hot chocolate stayed in the mug as she bounced up and down. Her boots sunk into the soft snow and snowflakes landed in her brown hair and on her clothes. There were also a few snowflakes that made their way into the hot chocolate, but they melted immediately.

A group of Hufflepuffs were moulding the base shape for a snowman. The Gryffindors with the snow forts had begun to pelt snowballs at each other.

Chuckling with happiness, Hermione took a sip from her hot chocolate and savoured the liquid goodness. She lay down, the icy snow pinching her skin through her clothes. In her haze of happiness, though, Hermione didn't mind the freezing cold at all. She spread out her arms and legs and began to make a snow angel.

A load of snow landed in her face.

"Granger, what in the world are you doing?" said an incredulous, aristocratic voice.

Hermione shook her head to get the snow off and sat up, looking like an angry bull. Draco Malfoy stood above her, looking most disgusted.

"Did you kick that snow onto me? Did you?" Hermione demanded furiously, standing up and getting her half-empty hot chocolate from the ground.

"Yes," he replied casually.

His two goons, ever the loyal ones, grunted with something that Hermione guessed was meant to be laughter.

"You just ruined my snow day. You git," Hermione said angrily.

Draco, who also had a cup of hot chocolate, sipped quietly. "Good. That just _made_ my snow day."

All happiness that had once existed was replaced by anger, and all of a sudden she could feel the frost biting her. She began to shiver, and her teeth chattered noisily. She grabbed a handful of snow and threw it as had as she could at Draco.

There was silence, in which Draco slowly brushed the snow off his expensive-looking coat. Crabbe and Goyle looked excited, like they were waiting for a show.

"Did you honestly just throw a snowball at me?" he sneered.

Another silence stretched on. The corners of Hermione's lips actually lifted.

"The idea is to throw one back," she said, shrugging.

_BAM!_ A snowball hit her shoulder. She was colder than she'd ever been her life, especially thanks tot he fact that her back was all wet from making a snow angel.

To warm herself up, she threw a snowball back. It hit Draco in his stomach. To her surprise, Crabbe and Goyle had gone off somewhere.

While she was distracted, Draco had managed to gather up two balls of snow and threw them both at the same time.

"Oh, you did not just do that!" Hermione screeched, gathering a ball that needed both of her hands to carry. To her dismay, it didn't even hit Draco when she threw it. He simply smirked.

They had a snowball fight. And Hermione enjoyed it. And Draco enjoyed it.

When Hermione had to sit down to catch her breath, her hair was dotted with blobs of snow and she was shivering so much that she was sure she'd drill a hole down to the core of the Earth soon.

"You look cold," Draco commented.

"You just noticed?" Hermione said incredulously. She realised that her hot chocolate was still sitting in the snow, magically staying in its cup. She shakily took a sip and sighed contentedly.

"Want a blanket?" he offered, pulling a blanket out of his seemingly never-ending pocket.

"What's that I just heard? You, Malfoy, not being a git?" Hermione said, shocked.

"I'm just trying to be nice."

Hermione's eyes nearly bulged out of her head.

He shrugged. "It's just something about days like these. Snow days. They make me want to act–"

"Human?" Hermione interjected, smiling weakly.

Draco's eyes grew cold. Hermione instantly regretted what she had just said.

"What makes you say I'm not human?" he asked venomously.

Hermione didn't answer.

"I'm very human."

"I know what you are–" Hermione began.

"No you don't. You don't know anything about me."

"Then tell me something about you," Hermione said.

Draco all but chuckled. "It's something for you to figure out yourself. With a brain like yours, it shouldn't be too hard."

There was the smallest silence.

No one, including Hermione, would ever know why she got up and kissed Draco Malfoy, the snow falling around them.

It was just something about days like these. Snow days. They made her want to act... impulsive.

What she did know, however, was that someone threw some hot chocolate at their faces, and it coated both of their lips. Hermione could taste it as she kissed Draco, and it was absolutely delicious–

Until Ginny tackled her.

"WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING, HERMIONE?"

Hermione's gaze travelled to Draco, who was covered in hot chocolate and smirking. He licked his lips and trudged away without a word.

When Hermione had gotten away from Ginny, cleaned herself up and gotten tired of doing activities with Harry and Ron, she left the castle again and entered the magical, snowy outside world. Draco was standing there, his white-blond hair blowing around in the wind. He looked quite annoyed about it.

"There are these things called hats," Hermione said, getting his attention.

"I have one."

"You should use it."

That evening, as the sun was setting and the snow continued to fall, they talked together with hot chocolate and threw snowballs at each other.

And that, my dear friends, is why Hermione Granger so dearly adored hot chocolate.


	11. Avis

**Avis**

"_Oppugno_," Hermione whispered, a tear rolling down her face. The brightly coloured birds, once looking as if they should belong in some artsy romance scene, turned their attention to Ron and flew with frightening speed towards him, poised for attack. Yelping with surprise, Ron dodged each bird. With a puff of a few feathers, the birds dissolved into nothingness, and Hermione was left with only Harry as company.

Ron's face showed the many conflicting emotions inside him. Eventually, he left without a word, and Hermione once again curled into Harry's arms with rivers of tears pouring from her puffy eyes.

She knew she deserved better. Heartbroken and despairing, she poured her emotions out with her tears, until she had nothing left but a stained face, Harry's arms and an empty feeling inside.

Ron and Lavender stood by the tower window, snogging each other as if their lives depended on it. They were silly and careless and _young_.

And then there was Draco, standing out on the deck while looking out across the snowy grounds, now more alone than ever. He welcomed moments of peace so much these days. That was why he was being quieter and more reserved; he didn't want to cause unnecessary drama.

However, something in the windows of the tower caught his eye, and he was really quite fascinated. So Weasley had, once again, broken Hermione's heart. He was stupid to choose that disgusting tramp Brown over Hermione, but then again, Weasley was just stupid in general.

Draco could tell that Hermione was silent, because her body had stopped shuddering with each great sob and she simply stared rather sadly at the floor.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione finally sighed, exhausted from her emotional release.

"It's nothing," he said firmly. "You don't have to thank me."

Hermione smiled. "You can go now. I'm fine. I think I'd just like to sit and think by myself for a while."

"If you say so," Harry said. Hermione smiled at him again as he turned to leave, before turning to the window and gazing out at the wonderful view.

A flash of almost snow-white hair drew her attention away from the picturesque scene before her. Draco looked into her eyes, and Hermione looked into Draco's, and a thousand thoughts flashed into both of their heads.

Hermione wondered if he was feeling as alone as she was. Maybe even more so.

_Maybe he's just misunderstood._

Hermione surprised herself at that thought. Where had it even come from? What did her brain mean by that?

The answers to those questions didn't really matter, though, because she felt herself slip away in search of the one person with whom she might actually be able to relate - Draco.

* * *

A/N: What does your imagination say happens next? (: I would have dearly liked to continue this one-shot but writer's block overcame me!

Many thanks to _sexymarauders_ for reviewing _multiple times_! Thanks for taking the time to read and review. *cookies for you*


	12. Happy New Year

**Happy New Year**

"Someone's coming!" Ron whispered, frantically pointing at the shadow gliding across the wall. He and Harry quickly grabbed their Fanged Frisbees and crouched behind one of the large armchairs by the fireplace.

They looked at each other, quite surprised, when they saw who was there. It was Hermione, still in her pyjamas, a bright light emanating from the tip of her wand. She anxiously scanned the common room for any sign of other people before climbing out the portrait hole.

When she was gone, Ron turned to Harry.

"What is Hermione doing out of bed at this time of night?" he wondered suspiciously.

"It _is_ very odd. Let's follow her," Harry suggested brightly.

"Follow her? But what if she catches us? You know how angry she can get sometimes..." Ron pleaded fearfully, hardly excited by the prospect of sneaking around behind Hermione.

"Well, it's a good thing she's not going to catch us. Let's go," Harry said determinedly.

"_Harry!_" Ron whined, but had no choice but to follow his best friend out of the common room.

Once in the dimly lit corridors, Harry tip-toed forward and Ron followed his lead. Hermione was merely a few metres in front of them, but if they were lucky and fortunate, maybe they wouldn't get caught. She strode quickly, trying her best to smooth down her wild mane of curly hair.

Harry and Ron were as silent as ants, creeping along behind Hermione, who led them through the maze of corridors and hallways. All the paintings were fast asleep, but some muttered in their sleep when Hermione's lit wand came near them. Eventually, she reached a staircase and jogged up it excitedly.

By the time the three reached the top, Ron was sweating and breathing heavily, while Harry tried to somehow silently persuade him to be quieter.

A voice spoke, but Harry and Ron couldn't figure out to figure out who it was. The voice was familiar, though... They quickly hid behind a corner.

"Hello, beautiful," said a male.

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you," Hermione replied with a smile, dashing happily to a spot in front of the window, where moonlight broke the darkness. Her mysterious man met her in that spot and Harry and Ron's jaws fell open.

"It's Malfoy!" Harry whispered, his whole face disbelieving.

"Oh, this is absolutely sickening," Ron said as Hermione and Draco embraced tightly.

The moonlight made Draco look ethereal, with his silvery hair and marble skin. He slowly leaned forward, and Hermione leaned into him, and their lips were almost touching–

"Ugh, I can't watch this," Ron muttered, gagging.

"Come on. It's not every day you get to see mortal enemies snog each other!" Harry said.

"Go kiss Voldemort, then!" Ron spat, turning around.

There was an awkward silence as Harry suddenly envisioned himself and Voldemort–

"And I don't think they're mortal enemies anymore," Ron continued angrily.

Harry turned back to the unlikely couple. Hermione and Draco were kissing passionately, their hands roaming all over each other. Both moaned loudly, tangling their fingers in each other's hair.

Suppressing the urge to vomit, Harry faced the wall.

"You were smart," Harry whispered sickly. "Not to watch, I mean."

The moans stopped, meaning they were finished. Harry and Ron turned around to watch them.

"I hope next year will be great. For both of us," Hermione murmured, her head resting contentedly on his chest.

"If I get to keep seeing you next year, it will be the best year of my life," Draco said back. Harry and Ron rolled their eyes in unison.

Then fireworks set off, illuminating the night sky in an impressive show of lights. Cheers could be heard all the way from Hogsmeade, were hardcore party-goers were celebrating the new year.

"Happy New Year, Draco."

"Happy New Year, Hermione."

They simply smiled at each other for a few moments before Draco murmured, "I haven't kissed you since last year."

Hermione laughed at his little joke and launched herself towards his lips. This time, the kiss was even more heated, like their lives depended on kissing each other. With tongue.

Harry and Ron fell to the floor with a thump. Draco and Hermione sharply turned their heads towards the sight of two motionless bodies on the ground.

"Should we bring them to the Hospital Wing?" Hermione asked worriedly, forgetting her anger at being watched by her friends.

"Oh, just leave them there," Draco said.

Hermione frowned at their bodies for a moment. Then she shrugged and kissed Draco again, fireworks exploding in the sky in front of them.

* * *

A/N: Happy New Year, all you crazed Dramione fans! I wish you the best of luck in 2013. 2012 was crap anyway.

Also, excuse my inability to proofread to save my life. I try, I really do, but I read so fast and my eyes just skip over mistakes. Ignore weird mistakes such as left-out words, repeated words, misplaced words, etc.

Credit to CC Malfoy 17 for the hilarious lines: "It's not every day you get to see mortal enemies snog each other!" and "Go kiss Voldemort, then!"


	13. His Deepest Desire

**His Deepest Desire**

"Stay out here," Draco ordered his two mindless goons, currently disguised as a young Ravenclaw couple. "Pretend to be chatting so you don't look suspicious."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded. Draco pulled open the doors to the Room of Requirement, and into the Room of Hidden Things.

Crowded with piles of miscellaneous, discarded objects, most people would easily lose their way around the room. But not Draco. He'd been inside so many times that his body automatically turned and walked in the correct directions, leading him to the Vanishing Cabinet.

That was exactly what he did at that moment. He let his subconscious take over. Within a few minutes, he was standing in front of the Cabinet. He ran his hands over the smooth, black mahogany and slipped a green apple inside.

"_Harmonia Nectere_–"

Something caught his eye, stopping him from completing the incantation. It was an old mirror a few feet away, with a strange inscription carved across the top. From his knowledge of Hogwarts, Draco knew that this was the Mirror of Erised.

He narrowed his eyes at his reflection. The reflection simply smirked back. In a swirling haze of white smoke, someone stepped out from behind Reflection Draco and locked hands with his.

The real Draco's eyes widened.

"Granger?" he whispered almost inaudibly.

The Hermione in the mirror turned to Reflection Draco, smiling at him before they both kissed hungrily, desire visible in the way their bodies moved enthusiastically.

The sight sickened Draco. He turned away from the mirror, and tried to concentrate on his work, but it was impossible. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see himself and Hermione, her wild brown hair all tousled.

He couldn't work like this.

Angrily and filled with hatred for the stupid mirror, he picked up the closest thing to him – a heavy precious stone – and threw it at his reflection. The mirror's glass shattered into a million shards and fell to heap onto the floor.

To his horror, the mirror repaired itself. The shards floated back to their proper places and the cracks filled themselves up again. His reflection and Hermione were still snogging like nothing had happened.

He tried again and again, but each time, the mirror just repaired itself.

Eventually Draco let out an annoyed cry. It echoed through the vast room. He couldn't work like this.

So he set out to satiate the deepest desire of his heart – he needed to have Hermione.


	14. Tipsy

**Tipsy**

An unusually hot day had greeted the students of Hogwarts as they rose from their beds, covered in sweat and groaning at the prospect of spending a day in Hogsmeade with the horrible heat. And at this time of the year, too! How strange.

A water shortage quickly occurred and the few who could use "_Aguamenti_" did so, filling cups with water for everyone. It was tiring job, though, and still a lot of people stayed parched. They looked forward to their Hogsmeade trip. However, when the time finally arrived that they were allowed to go Hogsmeade, the walk was slow, long, torturous and resulted in a quite a few people fainting.

Hermione was walking beside Harry and Ron, trying her best to ignore her dry throat. She, and everyone else, almost cried with happiness when they saw that they were quickly approaching Hogsmeade.

Everyone ran in different directions, having different ideas of how they could cure their thirst. Harry, Ron and Hermione ran to the Three Broomsticks at once and ordered three cold Butterbeers. Their clothing – or lack of it, rather – was soaked in sweat.

They sat down at a table, sighing with relief, and began to converse about trivial topics like Quidditch. Hermione mostly listened, gulping down her Butterbeer.

After the drink, she was still thirsty, and so she ordered another one. Harry and Ron also requested new ones.

This kept going on. Hermione could feel her stomach growing with each downed glass of the delicious, refreshing drink, but she couldn't get enough of it. Her head became a little light a woozy, just like those times that she rose from her bed too fast and the world spun.

"Hey," Hermione said after her sixth or seventh Butterbeer. "Is this alcoholic?"

"Slightly," Harry replied, his accent a little... off. "I reckon you shouldn't worry." He grinned lazily and suddenly started tracing lines across the table.

"Hmm..." Hermione hummed suspiciously, but she still drank her Butterbeer and ordered new ones. It was actually amazing how she managed to hold all the liquid, but she managed.

She stopped at the tenth glass.

"Hey guys," Hermione giggled. "We should leave now... I want to go to... Honeypukes..."

"Honeydukes," Ron corrected, giggling like a little girl at Hermione's mistake.

"Meh," Hermione muttered in reply. Harry was frantically drawing circles all over the table. "I'm going. Your choice if you want to follow me."

"I'm STAYING!" Harry roared.

"Okay," Hermione said calmly, before getting out of her seat and staggering towards the door. She never knew how she managed not to lose her balance back outside, where heat overwhelmed her. She traipsed along the street, muttering joyous greetings to passers-by, who looked at her disapprovingly. Hermione stuck her tongue out at them.

Somehow, she find herself in the park, nowhere near Honeydukes. Oh well. It was a pretty place. If she passed out, at least she would fall on the grass.

Someone else was walking slowly through the large willow trees, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Peering closer, Hermione could see that it was Draco Malfoy. Her vision was quite blurry, though.

"Hey Dracoooooo," Hermione called, her speech slurred.

Draco's head turned towards her, his eyes narrowed.

"Are you drunk?"

"Dracoooooooooo, wait for me," Hermione whined as Draco continued to walk on. She ran towards him, stumbling slightly along the way.

"Seriously, Granger. You should back to Hogwarts."

Hermione blew a raspberry at him and peered closely at his face.

"You're awfully pale. You should get a tan."

"Go away, Granger," Draco said, quite indignant at having his skin colour insulted.

"Hmm... your lips are dry! I have lip balm!"

Hermione brandished a stick of lip balm. She had a little trouble taking the lid off in her tipsy state, but she managed. Then she attacked Draco with it.

"No – no – get that away from me!" Draco cried, holding his hands protectively in front of his face.

"I'll have to use force," Hermione warned, right before she jabbed his hips.

Draco exploded in laughter, falling to the ground at once. He was helpless as Hermione poked his hips and armpits and tickled him under his chin. He rolled around the grass, peals of laughter escaping his lips as Hermione relentlessly and skillfully tickled him until he was a wreck beneath her.

"Stop... stop," Draco gasped, tears running from his eyes. His mouth was still arched in a grin.

Hermione was straddling him. She grinned evilly, stopping tickling him, but she applied lip balm to her own lips.

"Now to get rid of those dry lips of yours," Hermione murmured happily, bending down.

"No – Granger–"

He was cut off as Hermione's lips met his. She massaged his lips with her own, being sure to rub the lip balm all over his dry, cracked lips. Just for good measure, she moistened his lips by flicking her tongue all over them.

"Hm. That was rather enjoyable," Hermione commented brightly.

Draco lay there, speechless.

"I still think your lips are too dry..."

Hermione took bottom lip in her mouth and sucked at it. To her surprise, Draco had taken her top lip.

Draco rolled her over so that he was on top of her. All thoughts soon lost their mind, and they lay in the green grass of the park, beneath the shade of a willow tree.

"Hey..." Ron said slowly. His speech sounded funny thanks to the Butterbeers. "Is that Hermione?"

He and Harry stood at the entrance of the park. The boys took one last look at each other, and then dropped to the grass with a thump.

* * *

A/N: Twice now, Harry and Ron have fainted at the sight of Hermione and Draco kissing. Poor boys! Mwahaha.

This is the what I come up with after a hot Australian day.


	15. The Hufflepuff In Her

**The Hufflepuff In Her**

She tries to feign indifference, she really does. Yet lying isn't her strong suit, nor is it her favourite activity, and so she lets her true emotions show on her face. It leaves her vulnerable and exposed to the world. Not that this is unusual.

He sits there at the Slytherin table, silent and staring at his untouched food. His skin is grey and his eyes bloodshot. Hermione worries about him. It's in her nature, after all.

And when she feels his spine through his shirt by accident, she can't help but be shocked. He snaps at her, his face furious and indignant and someone touching him without invitation.

She observes him like a scientist, wondering what her specimen will do next. In time, she grows accustomed to his daily grind. He only eats alone – or at least when he thinks he's alone – and even then his portions are frighteningly small. He does not sleep. He sits on the windowsill, gazing at the night sky, as if he longs to be there. In the morning, he starts the cycle again.

One day, she approaches him in an empty hallway about his scarily unhealthy routine. She's not sure what makes her do it. Maybe it's just the Hufflepuff in her.

He laughs a gravelly, mirthless laugh.

"You're meant to be intelligent, Granger. Don't you understand?" he says. "I'm like the house-elves you fuss over like a stupid girl. They don't want your help. They like their lifestyle. And so do I."

Hermione is simply speechless.

"Now go away, and stop meddling in everyone's business like you're an angel and you can save everyone. Not everyone wants to be saved."

Then he brushes past her roughly, leaving Hermione alone and wondering what happened to the haughty, arrogant, smirking Draco Malfoy.

She slips her hand into her pockets and feels a S.P.E.W. badge.

_You're not getting rid of me that easily, _she thinks determinedly.


	16. Forgotten Words

**Forgotten Words**

"Sometimes I wonder what I would have been like if I'd been born and raised in Antarctica..." Hermione mused thoughtfully.

Draco smiled at her wandering mind.

"Sometimes I wonder what I would have been like if I had been born and raised by other parents."

Hermione glanced at Draco curiously. He sat peacefully by the fireplace, the light radiating from the flames giving his skin a healthy colour. The fire danced in his eyes as he watched the flames and the sputtering logs underneath.

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I mean if the opinions of purebloods hadn't been drilled into my brain. If I didn't even know the meaning of... _Mudblood_," Draco sighed.

Hermione took his alabaster hands in her sand ones.

"Forget about it. Just forget it all, Draco. There's no point reflecting on the past when you're living in the present. You're living in the here, the now."

Draco shook his head slowly. "But I can't. It's one of those things that's impossible. You know, like forgetting the words to your favourite song."

Hermione made him scoot over so that she could share the armchair.

"But the past doesn't matter. You're with me, right now, and we love each other, in spite of all the things we said to each other in the past," Hermione said softly, also gazing into the fire.

"I suppose you're right."

They sat in a golden silence, broken occasionally by the sputtering fire. Then Hermione cleared her throat, and began to sing.

"_It's like forgetting the words to your favourite song  
You can't believe it; you were always singing along  
It was so easy and the words so sweet  
You can't remember; you try to feel the beat_..."

Although Hermione's voice was anything but perfect, to Draco it sounded like honey. Or silk. And the melody was so pretty, just like Hermione...

Before he knew it, he was asleep, and Hermione stroked his hair by the fire.

* * *

A/N: Meh. Sweet drabble time! Look up "Eet" by Regina Spektor, or go to my profile for a link. (:


	17. The Stronger Current

**The Stronger Current**

When he speaks to her, it is not a stutter exactly but a jagged sound, as if the words are being broken off from some other, stronger current of words deep inside. His words are beautiful and sweet, as if he was born the son of the greatest poet. Yet Hermione feels like something inside of him yearns to be free, to fly out in the open air. What is it that he truly wants to say?

Maybe some things can't be expressed with words. Maybe some things are greater than that.

Hermione silences Draco with a soft kiss. At the contact, a bolt of electricity rushes through Hermione's body, and she knows that she has never felt more alive. Even though it happens every time they touch, Hermione can't get enough. It's like a drug. And she's addicted.

At that moment, she learns something that no book could ever teach her. The only thing greater than words is love.

* * *

A/N: Kudos to those who recognised the Anne Tyler quote!


	18. Denial

**Denial**

Hermione screamed with happiness as Harry caught the Snitch, winning the match for Gryffindor. Her fellow Gryffindors, all clad in scarlet and gold, erupted in a jubilant and victorious roar. They whistled and jumped up and down in their little moment of satisfaction as the Slytherins all booed and hissed, just like snakes. Some were dejectedly throwing their silver and green flags onto the ground.

Draco, sitting in the stands, muttered a profanity under his breath as he watched Harry do loop-de-loops on his broomstick. Losing was his least favourite thing in the world. Even Mudbloods were better than losing.

Well, except for one, who was worse than anything: Hermione Granger, with her uptightness and her unwillingness to do anything remotely fun and her know-it-all, condescending attitude... and the fact that she stupidly tried to help the elves when they didn't want it, and the fact that she tried to help anyone who looked like they needed help, and her willingness to give and to care...

And her bushy hair and her (once) large teeth and her superior expression... and her soft-looking skin,and rose-coloured lips and eyes so brown that it was hard to distinguish the iris from the pupil, and the way they were beautiful and and haunting...

Draco cursed as he turned his stare away from Granger. He wanted her, and he was in denial.

This was very bad news.


	19. Drown

**Drown**

He walks slowly across the courtyard, trying his hardest to ignore the burning glares of every Hogwarts student as he joins the Death Eaters.

"Well done, Draco," Voldemort says in his snake-like voice, filling Draco with a sense of coldness. When Voldemort hugs him, he feels like he's drowning. Drowning in a lake of icy water, and there is blackness everywhere. He can't see anything, he's so cold...

And then he's free from the Dark Lord's grasp. He continues his walk towards his parents and, very reluctantly, turns around to face the other party.

Everyone's eyes are back on Voldemort now – except for the eyes of one person, whose blank expression looks like it could made of stone. But her eyes... they look at him kindly, assuring him that everything will be all right. In the end, it always is.

_I'll find you, _Hermione's chocolate eyes say.

_I'll be waiting, _Draco's stormy eyes reply.


	20. The Pitch Invasion

**The Pitch Invasion**

"No one asked you your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!" Draco spat venomously, proudly holding his Nimbus 2001.

A war started immediately, as if a cannon had gone off to signal that the battle was to commence. The Gryffindors lunged for Draco in a rage and the Slytherins defended their new Seeker protectively. Then they started fighting back, and it was all very messy. Nothing that Draco would like to get into.

He turned his gaze away from the fight back to Mudblood Granger, who looked confused. Obviously, she didn't know what the word meant. Draco had called many people "Mudblood" since his arrival at Hogwarts, and this time shouldn't have been any different.

But it was.

Even though Granger's eyes didn't become watery like all the others did, Draco still felt a strange sensation fill him to the brim. It scared him, and made his stomach sink.

He felt _guilty_.

And he wanted to _apologise_.

It was truly killing him inside.

What kind of power did Granger have over him?


	21. Celebrations

**Celebrations**

Draco was lost as to how he finally managed to find Hermione somewhere in the mountains of books. It was obvious that she'd be in the library, even on a day like this. Her birthday. And from the annoyed look on Hermione's face as her breezed over passages, he could tell that he'd been the only one to remember.

"Hermione," Draco announced his presence. Hermione looked up, startled by the sudden noise breaking the silence of the library. "Happy birthday."

Her face lit up like a thousand candles as her grin stretched from one ear to the other. She manoeuvred herself out of her little cocoon of books and threw her arms around an unsuspecting Draco.

"Oh, you remembered!" Hermione said happily. "You're the only one who did, apart from my parents."

"That sounds rather disappointing," Draco commented, thinking sour thoughts about Potter and Weasel.

"It is," Hermione agreed sadly, before she once again lit up with joy at the sight of the wrapped present in Draco's hands. "Is that for me?" she asked hopefully, indicating the present.

"Of course." Draco gave it to her and Hermione took it gratefully. She ripped open the paper and gasped at what lay in her hands.

It was a moving picture of her and Draco, framed by silver ivy that danced slowly. It was a summer's day and they were sitting by the Black Lake, laughing happily and holding hands. Hermione had her usual assortment of books beside her, while Draco had quite a few green apples.

Draco tried hard to pretend not to notice Hermione's tears splashing on the metal ivy, which soaked up the tears like a sponge. He wasn't particularly good at dealing with crying females.

Hermione thanked him with a tender kiss, and Draco felt like it was his birthday instead of Hermione's.


	22. Celebrations 2

**Celebrations 2**

Draco was moody the whole morning.

It wasn't because nobody had remembered his birthday – such trivial things weren't bothered with in Slytherin house. For all he knew, he could have shared the same birthday with Millicent Bulstrode.

No, his moodiness was caused by something entirely different.

_Where was Hermione?_

The one thing he looked forward to in the morning was seeing her bright face over at the Gryffindor table, even if they couldn't talk to each other because it would raise suspicion. But as he scanned – or rather, glared at – the Gryffindor table, he could see no signs of Hermione, nor Potter and Weasel. So poor Draco was left to sullenly eat his bacon with a vengeance, only half-concentrating on the conversation about Professor Binns.

For the rest of his classes, Draco was listless. He answered questions only with one or two words, narrowed his eyes hatefully at everyone, angrily ate green apples right in the middle of class and didn't even bother responding when Pansy began her usual routine of draping herself over his arms like a slug.

At the end, Draco headed to the library with the intention of avoiding nosy questions like, "Why do you look so irritated?" The honest answer would not be welcome in Slytherin. A Slytherin fraternising with a Gryffindor... it hadn't been heard of!

There was Hermione!

"Hermione!" Draco called out, relieved. "I–"

"Shh!" she hushed frantically. She didn't want people looking in their direction.

Draco walked over to her.

"Where were you this morning?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"I was getting your present ready," Hermione revealed with a grin. "Happy birthday."

"Present?" Draco echoed, surprised. "You remembered my birthday?"

"Of course," Hermione said in a tone that made Draco sound silly. "Here."

Hermione handed Draco something shaped suspiciously like a book. He tore open the paper and his mouthed curled into a grin.

"_101 Magical Ways To Cook Apples,_" Draco read happily. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem," Hermione replied, still grinning. "I have an apple for you. You can try one of the recipes on it."

"Green?"

"As always."

Draco's eyes danced with excitement as he took the apple into his hand.

"Much as I love apples... it is their curvaceous cousin the pear – voluptuously shaped, scented and floral, dripping with ambrosial juices – that seems most completely to encapsulate the idea of fruity temptation," Hermione murmured.

"You just quoted Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall," Draco pointed out. Hermione nodded, smiling. "But really? You like pears better?"

"Yes. I'm sure we'll still manage to hold our relationship together, despite our opposing views on which fruit is better," Hermione joked.

Draco kissed her forehead.

"Thank you. I think I'm going to eat my apple now."


	23. Rita's At It Again

**Rita's At It Again**

"What's with the fire, Granger?" Draco drawls. He collapses into the couch facing the fire, his face looking worn out after another exhausting day of being Head Boy. He has random cuts and burns on his hands and smells faintly of Doxy droppings.

Hermione sits by the fire, using a poker to tenderly move around the logs. The flames cast a warm glow around the whole room, which would be in darkness if it weren't for the fire.

"Rita Skeeter," Hermione states flatly, but Draco doesn't understand.

"Rita Skeeter what?"

Hermione sighed, moodily tearing the article in her hands to shreds. "Rita Skeeter has been being Rita Skeeter."

"That's no surprise, because Rita Skeeter is Rita Skeeter so it makes sense that Rita Skeeter would act like Rita Skeeter," Draco says, then frowns because he has confused himself.

Hermione quirks an eyebrow, though Draco can't see it because she's facing the fire. "What I meant to say, Malfoy, is that Rita Skeeter has been writing those foul articles of hers again. And this time, they're about us."

Draco slumps further into the couch. This can't be good.

"Show me."

Hermione reluctantly hands him one of the articles that she hasn't thrown into the fire yet.

"_At merely sixteen years of age, one can say that Hermione Granger, the stunning, intelligent girl of the Golden Trio, has certainly been getting around,_" Draco reads aloud, already amused. "_Her taste in wizards is clear: she likes them famous. Her first relationship, with Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum, was short-lived but cruelly criticised because of the age difference. Miss Granger was heartbroken when Krum was forced to leave Hogwarts and return to Durmstrang, but she recovered quickly when she got together with the one and only Harry Potter._

"_There is no word yet if the Boy Who Lived and the Gryffindor Princess have broken up since the start of their romantic relationship sometime during the infamous Triwizard Tournament, but several anonymous sources to us at the Daily Prophet that Granger may be getting tired of Potter, instead choosing to lust after Ronald Weasley, the last in the Golden Trio._"

Draco actually snorts.

"_However, one thing is certain. Granger, ever the magnet for men, has been able to capture the heart of Slytherin's Draco Malfoy, son of ex-Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, who was cleared of all charges after the war. As they say, there is certainly a fine line between love and hate, and these ex-arch-enemies have crossed it._"

Draco takes one last look at Rita Skeeter's sickening face before tossing the whole newspaper into the fire. Hermione half-heartedly pokes the hearth before sitting on the couch with Draco.

"Bloody Skeeter," Draco says, as if the name is sour on his tongue.

There is a short silence before Hermione takes Draco's hand in hers and lets a single tear slide down her face.

"No one was meant to know about us..." she whispers.


	24. Place of the Wild Onion

**Place of the Wild Onion**

"Chicago is Algonquian Fox for 'place of the wild onion'," hummed Hermione absent-mindedly. "Did you know that? I've always found the origins of American city names quite interesting. The map of America is an etymological jungle. Take Philadelphia, for example. It's Greek for 'loving brother'! If I had the choice, I wouldn't name that place Philadelphia. It reminds me of the cream cheese Philadelphia, although I suppose it's not the namer's fault that I get hungry every time Philadelphia is mentioned because it hadn't existed in the time in which Philadelphia would have been named Philadelphia -"

"Granger," Draco interrupted smoothly. "We're here so you can get better in Potions. Not so we can discuss cream cheese and the etymology of American cities."

"I know that," Hermione snapped, incredibly irritated at having been interrupted in the middle of her wave of random facts and musings. It could have very well been a sin to interrupt an intelligent being like her. "I just thought I'd tell you."

"Right, because the reason you get hungry when Philadelphia is mentioned will prove quite useful to me in the future," Draco said sarcastically, raising his eyebrows. "Just do the sequence again. We'll have a break once you can do it."

"Er, what sequence are we up to again?" Hermione asked sheepishly. She was definitely out-of-character these days.

"The eighth," Draco sighed.

"And, um, what is it?"

"Pumpkin juice that makes the drinker more alert."

"Oh, I need that desperately," Hermione said.

Hermione looked at the instructions, morbidly detailed, and began throwing in ingredients. It was a simple potion, luckily, and at least at the end she would be able to drink it.

The liquid in the cauldron turned an ugly brown colour.

"Go have a short break. I'll set the temperature," Draco promised and Hermione gratefully sped out of the empty classroom, making a beeline towards the toilet.

When she came back, Draco had filled up two glasses.

"To Potions," Draco toasted, holding up his glass of pumpkin juice that looked like elephant poop.

"Potions," Hermione echoed. She downed her glass thirstily and was surprised that it tasted quite good, in spite of its ugly texture and colour. Her oesophagus felt awfully funny, though.

Draco's eyes had nearly bulged out of his head.

"What?" Hermione asked curiously.

"You – you – I – you drank so fast!" Draco stuttered frantically, his eyes flicking from Hermione's empty glass to her mouth.

"So?"

"So, you ate something you weren't meant to! There was a ring in your drink, and you swallowed it!"

"You put a _ring_ in my drink?" Hermione repeated thunderously. "What the heck would you do that for?!"

"I was proposing to you!" Draco defended, folding his arms. "It was meant to be all romantic and everything."

"Yeah, look how well that turned out!" Hermione screeched shrilly.

"You were meant to drink slowly, like a normal person, not gulp it all up at once like the world would end if you didn't!"

"I. Was. Thirsty," Hermione hissed, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Well, your thirstiness has resulted in a ring ending up in your stomach!"

"Take me to the Hospital Wing!" Hermione yelled with a dangerous tone.

Fuming, Draco walked with Hermione out of the empty classroom. They marched in silence, though it wasn't at all awkward, because the two were too angry at each other to speak.

Hermione stopped at the doors of the Hospital Wing.

"Yes, by the way," she said nonchalantly.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I will marry you," Hermione said, her mouth grinning widely. Draco, filled to the brim with happiness, lifted her in the air and spun her around.

"Once I get the ring out of my digestive system," Hermione added.

"Of course," Draco nodded, smirking slightly.

And then they fought some more, just like an old married couple.

* * *

A/N: How I imagine their proposal to go down... They truly are a twisted couple, meaning that they deserve a twisted one-shot! :D


	25. Scarred

**Scarred**

"_I didn't take anything. Please!" Hermione wails, her sobs making her whole body shake upon the frigid floor._

"_I don't believe you," Bellatrix whispers nastily, before using her knife on the milky flesh of Hermione's arm._

_Her ear-piercing screams echo throughout the Manor._

"Hermione, wake up!" someone yells. Hermione is still screaming. She closes her mouth, images of her nightmare still etched onto the back of her eyelids. Tears fall silently from her sleep-deprived eyes.

"It was only a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Just your imagination," the voice whispers soothingly, softly rocking Hermione's tense body back and forth.

"I – I was there again. With her," Hermione breathes almost inaudibly.

Draco doesn't need more clarification. He slowly pulls up the sleeve of her pyjamas, revealing that dirty word... Mudblood.

Then, Draco pulls up his own sleeve, and the horrifying Dark Mark joins the Mudblood scar for display.

Hermione looks into Draco's eyes, her tears finally stopping. His scars are worse than hers.


	26. From, Your Secret Admirer

**From, Your Secret Admirer**

"..._And our wedding will be big, and we will have lots of children._ Like it?" Blaise concluded, grinning.

Draco sat frozen in his chair, completely nonplussed. When and how on Earth did Blaise Zabini become so romantic? It was actually really sickening.

"Draco, you have to write one too," Blaise snapped, irritated with his friend's stubbornness. "It's not negotiable. It's mandatory. Compulsory. Whatever word you want to use. You are _required_ to do it. So do it."

Draco simply stared straight ahead, rather traumatised by the new Valentine's Day tradition (or method of torture): doing something creative for your Valentine.

And if you didn't fancy anyone, then you would have to write to one of the house-elves in order to dodge getting detention.

Luckily, Draco didn't need to write the house-elves...

"Draco!" Blaise snapped, sending Draco spiralling out of his reverie. "You're absolutely hopeless at visual art, so write a poem. Valentine's Day is tomrrow - you don't have long."

"I... can't rhyme," Draco lied weakly.

Blaise looked ready to smack the blond. "You don't _have_ to bloody rhyme! You can write a freeverse poem - I don't care at all. The important thing is writing _something_."

"Fine," Draco hissed, hating stupid Blaise and stupid Dumbledore and stupid Valentine's Day.

Blaise tossed him a piece of parchment and a quill. He thought of _her_, and began to write.

* * *

To, Hermione Granger

From, Your Secret Admirer

.oOo.

Like the stars in the sky,

I can merely watch you from afar and never touch you.

I see the way your eyes blaze with passion

When you're defending the ones you love.

I see the way you bite your bottom lip

When you're tensed,

Thinking,

Analysing,

Finding a solution to whatever obstacle lays in your path.

I see the way you look at me

With hatred etched upon your pretty face

And I return the look.

But there are some times,

When your eyes blaze with passion

Or you're biting your bottom lip,

And I can't manage to hold up my mask.

It slips away,

Like the worst masquerade.

I can only watch in wonder,

Merely a star.

The dimmest of the stars in your solar system.

When I see you sad, my world crumbles.

And when you smile, all my troubles run away,

As if a river of angel tears is washing away

All the negativity inside of me.

You, Hermione Granger, are my angel.

If only you weren't forbidden fruit...

I feel like our love could withstand anything.

You are the highest apple on the tree.

The best apple in the world, but far too high up.

Most boys would simply pick the apples from the bottom of the tree;

The easiest girls.

But everyone wants you. They're just not bothered to climb.

I am prepared to climb.

Sweet Hermione,

By not being together, we are denying the entire world

A fairytale romance.

* * *

A/N: My first freeverse. Ever. So be nice! Hermione's poem thing will be next! Believe it or not, this whole "write poems/draw something" idea was the least lame that came to me when I saw the prompt "nonplussed".

God, that poem was sooo cheesy.


	27. From, Your Secret Admirer 2

**From, Your Secret Admirer 2**

"Come on, Hermione," Lavender moaned. "Just do it already."

"No," Hermione refused flatly.

"Do you want detention or not?" Lavender threatened.

Hermione flinched at the very idea. "Fine. But you have to tell me whether or not it's good afterwards. And you can't ask who it's for!"

Lavender accepted these conditions with a fervent nod of her head. Hermione sighed and pulled a quill and some parchment out of her bag. She bit her lip, thinking about what she could write. Usually, once she started writing, the words simply flowed out of her, but she needed a basic idea of how to start before the Flowing of Words could commence. They sat comfortably in the common room on a quiet Thursday night. They were the only ones there and had the fire all to themselves.

Hermione carefully wrote a single sentence before she was on a roll. About an hour later, Hermione finished and cleared her throat, startling Lavender out of the land of sleep.

"Who's it to?" Lavender demanded.

"I'm not saying!" Hermione snapped back, blushing beetroot. She was still feeling overwhelmed from all the effort she put into that parchment. No essay compared to it. "And we agreed that you wouldn't ask who it is!"

Lavender slumped in her chair, pouting sullenly.

"Fine. Read the poem."

"I – uh, well, it's not exactly a poem. More like a story... Actually I'm not sure what it is... Maybe a poem-slash-story?"

"Read. It. Now."

"Fine, fine! Learn some patience!"

Hermione read it softly. At the end, Lavender squealed.

"Malfoy will love it!"

Hermione's eyes widened. "I said Draco by accident, didn't I?" she sighed, and Lavender nodded.

* * *

To, Draco Malfoy

From, Your Secret Admirer

.oOo.

She sits by the flames, the flurry of movement around her blurred and irrelevant. She's a simply an inaminate statue amongst the mess of proud lions. Her fingers dig into the soft fabric of the armchair as the fire rises, high and mighty. She watches it, and she sees his face. She imagines what it would be like to touch him... He would be marble, cold and soft as satin. And in that moment, she has forgotten how to read. Her favourite books from the library sit by the fire, untouched until the flames accidentally lick at its skin. They words go up in a blaze of smoke, but the girl does not care. He's always on her mind.

She sits on the windowsill at night, silently eating a lump of sugar. A glass of water is her only company as she stares out the moon, wondering what it would take to be as liberated as the white circle in the sky. She is cold and goosebumps rise from her skin, but she doesn't mind at all. She's thinking about him again. She's thinking about how her love for him isn't reciprocated, how all she gets in return is a piercing, icy stare of hatred. But the icy stare warms her body in an absolutely twisted way, just like her love for him is twisted. Lions and snakes don't mix. They're like oil and water. And the girl angrily knocks her glass of water, her only friend, to the carpet. In that moment, she has forgotten how to breathe. The water soaks the floor immediately, and she doesn't care. She has just seen _his_ face replaced by the moon. He's always on her mind.

She sits at her lonely table in the library, right up at the back, where her peace won't be disturbed by unwelcome intruders. She's sorry about letting the books burn that day and wants to make up for it by spending quality time with them. Her fingers run smoothly over the imperfect, crinkled pages, hardly in the best state but seeping with knowledge. She reads a sentence, and then realises that she hasn't taken it in. She reads it again, and again, and again, until she gives up. His face is right there, in the book, the words drawing his face like a strange contemporary art show. Looking up, she sees him in the flesh. In that moment, she has forgotten how to live. He never turns to her, though, only pours over the books. The girl soundlessly packs up her books and slinks silently into the shadows, knowing that her love for him will forever burn in her heart, a flame never to be doused. He will never, ever leave her mind.

_Oh, Draco. What have you done to my frail little heart?_

* * *

A/N: Whoa. That did not at all come out like I'd expected.

Well, there you have it. Hermione will send Draco this, and it's going to take him a year to read, and he wonders who sent it blah blah blah they marry the end, goodbye.


	28. Northern Lights

**Northern Lights**

The students rushed out of the castle excitedly, scattering all over the grounds. They looked up at the sky in wonder, lights dancing in their eyes, and it felt like the only moment in the history of Hogwarts where everyone was truly united. No fights, no jealousy, no stress... just the amazing phenomenon in the night sky.

"That's the Aurora Borealis," Hermione whispered, as though speaking loudly might disturb the aurora. "Also known as the Northern Lights."

The purple and green lights danced in the sky, looking playful. The stars were, for once, not the most beautiful thing in the sky – the dazzling aurora seemed to be the most wonderful and strange thing in the universe.

"I've never seen anything more beautiful," Parvati Patil whispered.

Draco, standing a few feet away, discreetly brought his eyes back down from the heavens and let his gaze rest on the back of Hermione Granger's bushy head.

_I have._


	29. Christmas Dinner

**Christmas Dinner**

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm her frazzled nerves. She felt queasy with apprehension as she stepped up to the door of the Burrow and knocked.

Mrs. Weasley opened it at once, wearing an apron and smelling of cookies. Smiling brightly, she opened her arms and engulfed Hermione in a suffocating hug.

"Hermione, dear! It's wonderful to see you! Everybody's been waiting for you," Mrs. Weasley chirped, content now that her final guest had arrived for Christmas dinner. Hermione grinned back excitedly.

She followed the woman into the kitchen, where Harry, the Weasleys and their significant others were sitting at the dinner table, conversing enthusiastically. They stopped when Mrs. Weasley arrived in the room with Hermione tagging along behind her, mouths curling into ecstatic grins.

And then, all of a sudden, their expression darkened considerably. Ron, well, he was the worst.

"What is he doing here?" Ron roared thunderously, and this sentence was only strengthened by the murderous glares of everyone in the room.

Hermione linked her arm through Draco's and pulled him closer to the table, where everyone could see him fully.

"Well, Mrs. Weasley suggested that I bring a date... and, well, here he is," Hermione said happily. She turned to Draco, whose eyes screamed _Don't make me do this! Anything but this! _She had come to know those silver eyes well, and how their shape changed to mean something different.

"Well, then," Mrs. Weasley said after a pregnant pause. "How is it that you are connected to, er..." she trailed off, unsure as to whether she should call the handsome blond man standing next to Hermione Draco or Mr. Malfoy.

"We're engaged."

Ginny actually shrieked. Percy, Bill and Charlie went very pale. Harry yelled in outrage, and Ron fell off his chair.

Fred reluctantly passed George five Galleons under the table.


	30. A Snowflake For Your Tongue

**A Snowflake For Your Tongue**

"Catch a snowflake, Malfoy," Hermione coaxed, grinning from ear to ear. She spread her arms like a bird and ran around the snow crazily, tongue outstretched and face looking up at the sky. She didn't care if she looked stupid – it was just these little moments of joy that made her feel free.

Draco sat underneath a willow tree, watching Hermione skip around crazily, poking out her tongue.

"I don't want to," Draco replied quietly, sighing and leaning back onto the trunk. The white wonderland was disturbed only by Hermione's black robes and scarlet and gold scarves.

"Please, Draco!" Hermione moaned, looking insane because her tongue poked out from between two upward-curved lips.

Draco shook his head, offering a faint smile. He felt too gloomy to do anything like that, so all he did was watch Hermione and lose himself in his thoughts.

* * *

_A year later_

"Catch a snowflake, Granger," Draco said happily, poking out his pink tongue. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his black coat and he was walking around casually. He felt incredibly liberated, simply a boy in the vast expanse of bright snow. Snowflakes landed in his hair, hardly visible against the white-blond colour of his hair.

Hermione sat under a tree, tears streaming down her face. She tried to hide it by burying her nose in a book, but her quivering body was a dead give-away that she was crying.

"Don't cry," Draco said suddenly, noticing Hermione's shuddering body. "Your tears will freeze. I'll have to lick them off for you," he said teasingly.

Hermione couldn't help but let the amused smile take over her face. "I wouldn't mind if you did."

Draco's face grew more serious. "You shouldn't waste your tears on people who don't deserve them."

"I know," Hermione admitted with a sniff, quickly wiping away her tears before they froze.

"Then stand up, and catch a snowflake with me," Draco said brightly, outstretching his hand. He pulled her up when she reluctantly took it.

She poked her tongue out, and they linked arms and marched around the snowy grounds of Hogwarts.


	31. Acquaintances

**Acquaintances**

"Why so tense, Potter?" Malfoy called out.

His blood boiling, Harry turned around. Malfoy jumped out of the tree he had been sitting in and landed smoothly on the bed of leaves.

"My father and I have a bet, you see," Malfoy taunted, smirking. "I think you won't last ten minutes in this tournament. He disagrees. He thinks you won't last five."

His guffawing minions were interrupted by Harry's fiery comeback.

"I don't give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy. He's vile and cruel, and you're just pathetic," he spat angrily.

Malfoy, fuming, pulled out his wand. But someone else dropped out of the tree next to Malfoy, someone Harry hadn't even noticed was in the tree in the first place. This person landed as smooth as a bird and straightened her robes.

"Hermione?" Harry said incredulously.

"Draco, don't curse Harry. He's my best friend. Harry, don't insult Draco. Actually, don't insult each other," Hermione commanded, folding her arms imperiously. Draco lowered his wand very reluctantly.

"What are you doing with Malfoy, Hermione?" Harry asked, hardly believing what he was seeing. Draco Mudbloods-are-rotten Malfoy, following Hermione's orders? What had happened to the universe?

"We've, er, become... acquaintances?" Hermione said in a small voice, laughing nervously.

"_Acquaintances?_" Harry repeated the word furiously. "Are you bloody kidding me? Ron hates me – actually, the whole school hates me, and now you're 'acquaintances' with Malfoy? Why can't anything stay normal?"

"Potter," Draco interrupted smoothly.

"What?" Harry snapped icily. Hermione's expression turned defensive at his tone of voice.

"Do us a favour and shut up."

"Draco!" Hermione gasped.

"Hermione!" Draco mimicked. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his impersonation of her.

Then Harry fainted, and it was the first of many fainting incidents to come.

"Acquaintances my ass," Harry mumbled in his unconscious state.

* * *

A/N: So... it's been about a week since my last Potter movie-thon, meaning the lines taken from the GoF movie may not be entirely correct. I'm writing from memory, people! Also, I would have taken lines from the book instead of the movie, but movie lines stick in my brain because they're actually spoken. Know what I mean? Plus I can't be bothered to flip through all those book pages.

I do have a habit of making the boys pass out, don't I? Sorry, not sorry!


	32. To Love a Mudblood

**To Love a Mudblood**

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," Snape said smoothly. Draco turned his head to watch Hermione enter the office.

"Professor, I–" Hermione stopped abruptly, noticing Draco in the room. He sat in one of the high-backed, wooden armchairs, obviously designed to make the visitor feel extremely uncomfortable. They were ridiculous seats, really.

"Take a seat, Miss Granger," Snape ordered, not at all in a friendly way. Draco stared at her with something unrecognisable in his eyes. Hermione chose to ignore it – he wasn't worth her attention.

"What is your reason for coming to me?" Snape drawled lazily.

"I just wanted to hand in my homework a bit early," Hermione said, beginning to rummage through her bag.

Snape put up his hand to stop her. "Homework will be taken when it is due. Not before, and not after," he said coldly.

"Oh," Hermione muttered disappointedly, "all right then. Sorry to bother you. Goodbye, sir."

She got up and exited the classroom, two pairs of eyes trailing after her. When she shut the door, Snape turned to Draco.

"You love her, don't you?" he said at once.

"What?" Draco replied, surprised. "I don't–"

"Don't deny it," Snape snapped. "I saw the way you looked at her."

Draco stayed silent, letting his gaze rest on the oak table.

"Well, what's it to you?" Draco said icily after a pause.

"Your family–"

"I don't give a damn about my family, okay?" Draco interrupted. "You don't know what it's like to love someone you're not meant to... To love a Mudblood."

"You don't know anything about my past. How dare you come to the conclusion that I haven't been through this before!" Snape hissed.

Draco slumped in his chair sullenly. "Well, I can't stop loving her. It's impossible–"

"Just don't act on your feelings," he advised. "Look at me."

Draco reluctantly raised his eyes to meet his godfather's.

"Trust me, Draco. Nothing good will come of it."


	33. Flames

**Flames**

"Hermione, please just cover for me! It's only one day, and the people in my part of the Ministry are really friendly! I just want quality time with Ginny," a twenty-four-year-old Harry Potter begged Hermione.

"Harry," Hermione sighed. "I really am sorry, but I'm meant to be in a meeting... five minutes ago!" Hermione squealed in horror, looking down at her watch. "Go get Parvati or someone to cover for you! I've gotta go!" Hermione said in a rush, before walking as fast as possible when in her heels reserved only for special meetings.

Her phone buzzed in her bag. She sighed and took it out, not stopping walking. It was Draco – she'd persuaded him last year to embrace Muggle technology, and he'd become quite fascinated with the amazing iPhone.

"Yes, Draco?" Hermione said, jabbing the elevator button.

"Hermione," he said at once. "Don't come home. Whatever you do, don't come home."

Draco's voice sounded strained somehow, though Hermione couldn't figure out why. In the background, she heard something roaring, but not exactly a roar from a living thing... And then something smashed like glass.

"Draco? What's going on?" Hermione said into the phone frantically. "Draco, are you okay–"

"Hermione, listen to me. Never come back to the house. Ever. Do you understand?"

"Draco, I–"

"Hermione!" Draco was obviously aiming for an insistent roar, but it came out as a wheeze. Then something clicked in Hermione's mind. "Do you understand?"

"Draco... you're suffocating..."

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes!" Hermione cried out. "Please, tell me what happening so I can help you–"

Tears streamed down her face. Others gave her odd looks.

"No. Follow my instructions..." He was struggling to breathe and to talk, Hermione could tell. There was another smash. "Go to Potter or Weasley's house. Live there until you find another home. Don't bother coming back to out house. If you do, there will be nothing but ash."

Hermione gasped. "_Aguamenti Maxima! Aguamenti Maxima_, Draco!" Hermione cried, her voice shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

"It's... too late," he whispered weakly.

"Draco – I can help – please, is someone there? Tell me–"

"I love you, Hermione."

The call ended. The phone beeped as though it were mocking Hermione for her loss, taunting her... She threw the phone at the wall with all her might and slumped into a pile on the ground.

"DRACO!" she screamed to the ceiling, before staying completely silent. Her terror and sorrow had gone beyond tears... It had evolved into a point of absolute stillness, where sounds were fuzzy and vision was distorted and blurry. She was numb. Completely numb, all over. She vaguely noticed people crowding around her, the whole world going white.

* * *

A/N: Well, you can't blame me for such a horrible fic! The prompt was "suffocated", for goodness' sake, and I'm not exactly the most imaginative person.

Computer: _33. Suffocated_

My brain: _Huh, where do people suffocate...? In a fire! * writes fic about being burned alive *_


	34. Sunday

**Sunday**

"You think that some god named God actually created the world? Are you kidding? It's bull–"

Hermione pinched him. Hard.

"It's sacrilegious to swear in the House of God," she hissed, taking a seat. Draco reluctantly slid next to her, not at all comfortable in this "church" place. Though he had to admit, the place was impressive. With high, marble pillars holding up a ceiling carved with dozens of angels, this church almost looked worthy of, say, a wizarding bank or something. Almost.

"I thought you were all about science and... and hard evidence! What evidence shows that God exists?" Draco whispered, since the room was mostly silent except for the sounds of people sliding onto a seat.

But Hermione ignored him. Her eyes were closed, her palms pressed together in a prayer. Scorpius was doing the same.

Draco huffed.

* * *

A/N: Normal Sundays for the Malfoy family!


	35. Circles and Squares and Lines

**Circles and Squares and Lines**

"Hey, Hermione!" Harry called out, snapping Hermione out of her reverie. She blearily refocussed her eyes to see that Harry and Ron were standing in front of her, pointedly ignoring Draco, who stood beside her.

"Hmm?" she hummed dazedly.

"Where are you going for the Christmas holidays?" Ron asked.

"Um, here at Hogwarts?" Hermione answered, though she sounded more like she was asking a question. "It's not like I have a choice. Mum and Dad are still in Australia."

"Mum said you can come to the Burrow with me and Harry," Ron informed her brightly. "Are you staying or coming?"

Hermione was torn. How could they ask her to make a choice like this?

She thought of all the moments she had when with Harry and Ron, when they laughed together at something whose level of humour was only raised by their guffaws. And she thought of when they ran crazily through the Burrow's gardens and fed the chickens and helped Fred and George play pranks on Mrs. and Mr. Weasley.

But then she though of the other night, when she had stretched herself out on the couch with her head in Draco's lap and the fire the only light source for the whole room. Draco had been tracing shapes on her skin... Circles and squares and lines, all over her arms and neck and shoulders...

Hermione slipped her hand into Draco's, looking apologetic. Both Harry and Ron's faces hardened immediately.

"Hermione, have you gone mental?" Ron said incredulously. "You'd rather spend time with that git, who called you a Mudblood for six years, instead of spending it with us, your best friends since first year?"

"It's only one holiday," Hermione muttered, tightening her grip around Draco's hand. He was stonily glaring at Harry and Ron.

"Come on Ron, let's go," Harry sighed, turning around. Ron shot Draco one last murderous glare before walking down the corridor with Harry. Ginny joined them, looking back at Hermione disappointedly.

Draco could sense that Hermione was about to cry. He pulled her in the other direction, softly tracing shapes on the outside of her hand with his thumb. She was instantly comforted, and they walked hand-in-hand through the school.


	36. Circles and Squares and Lines 2

**Circles and Squares and Lines 2**

_A few nights ago_

CRACK!

Hermione shrieked and practically jumped a foot into the air. The white flash of lightning blinded her for a fraction of a second before the room's dim lighting returned to normal. A fire blazed in the hearth, bathing the Heads' common room in a warm glow of orange. Draco looked up at her from the couch, cocking his head. Hermione had her hand over her heart and was panting from the shock.

"Thunder. You're scared of it?" he asked curiously.

"Unfortunately, yes. One of my secret irrational fears," Hermione answered breathlessly, sitting down on the couch with him.

"What are the others?" he pried.

Hermione smirked, almost looking like a Malfoy. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret, would it?"

Draco shrugged. "Touché."

The smirk quickly slid off Hermione's face when the lulling pitter-patter of rain against the windows was interrupted by another mighty roar of thunder. She yelped and started shaking afterwards.

"Why are you scared of it?" Draco asked.

"Because it's so unexpected, you know? There's silence – or just the rain – and then, suddenly, BOOM! It's just such a surprise. I'm not scared of being zapped by it, because I know there are enchantments on Hogwarts to prevent that, but... My fear is of not knowing when it will come," Hermione confessed.

CRACK!

Hermione made a sound that sounded like a cross between a choke and a sob.

"Lie down. Put your head in my lap."

Hermione complied, shaking uncontrollably. Draco softly placed his fingers on the skin of her shoulder and traced a small circle. Hermione's shaking died down slightly at his touch. His fingers left fiery burns on her skin... but good ones. Draco continued his ministrations, tracing all sorts of shapes on her skin. He went from her shoulder, across her collarbone and up her neck to reach her lips. He traced the outside of them, calming down Hermione like nothing else could.

CRACK!

Hermione was still shocked inside, but her body was too peaceful to react to the thunder. She melted into Draco, wishing that she could stay in that position forever.

Draco must have covered every inch of her bare skin before he stopped. Hermione softly manoeuvred herself to look up at Draco, who was asleep with his head on the back of the couch. He looked so tranquil; it was amazing.

CRACK!

Nothing. Not one ounce of shock attacked Hermione's body. Smiling contentedly, she put her head back in Draco's lap and easily slept through the thunderstorm.


	37. Dear Draco

**Dear Draco**

Draco sat in his room, gloomily gazing out at the white expanse of snow covering the gardens of Malfoy Manor. Everything was dead thanks to the cold, but the falling snow made up for it with its beauty. A slight breeze blew the snow diagonally.

An owl came into Draco's vision as he peered out through the window. It was a tawny owl, carrying a letter in its beak. He hastily opened his window and let the owl fly straight through. While the owl made itself comfortable next to his own owl, Ninguis, Draco quickly shut the window, so as to prevent more snow from getting in the room.

The tawny owl dropped the letter at the bottom of the cage. Draco hastened to open it, absent-mindedly stroking Ninguis and the new owl.

_Dear Draco,_

_I hope your Christmas holidays have been bearable so far. I know that there must be many complications within your family at the moment, and I do hope that my owl (Noctum) hasn't arrived in the middle of anything important. Incidentally, Noctum will bite you if you don't give him some sort of treat._

_The weather in France is horrible. It's absolutely freezing, as I imagine it would be back in England, but my parents and I are making the most of it. So far we've visited the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe (both of which, by the way, look amazing when covered with snow), skated on the frozen river near Daubensand, walked around Dijon, and visited plenty of cafés. I'm always hyper thanks to the caffeine, but at least it makes me more eager to see the rest of France._

_I met an old Englishman in one of the cafés. He said that he once knew the Malfoy family and that you were the cutest little baby. Sadly, I didn't catch his name, but his description of you made me double over in laughter. Mum and Dad thought I'd gone insane!_

_Anyway, we're planning to visit Strasbourg, and then Bordeaux. Right now we're in Paris and I'm writing this letter to you in a nice little café. After Strasbourg and Bordeaux, we plan to return here for Christmas. Apparently there's going to be some sort of lights festival, and it sounds terribly exciting! I'll have to write to you about it._

_I spend a lot of my time learning more Ancient Runes and thinking about you. I miss you so much, and I can't wait until we both return to Hogwarts. For now, though, letters will have to suffice._

_I love you,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Don't forget me._

Draco almost scoffed at the last line. How on Earth could he forget someone like her?

"Draco!" his father yelled from downstairs. "Get down here right now!"

Draco got up from his chair, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. Her words would bring him happiness, for a few days at least.


	38. Adventure Time

**Adventure Time**

"Hermione," Draco wheezed, his pride the only thing keeping him from collapsing into an exhausted heap on the ground.

"Yes, dear?" Hermione said brightly. She was ahead of Draco, walking as though she were strolling through a park. Scorpius, merely seven, held onto his mother's hand and swept through the jungle with just as much ease. Both of them had decided to wear khaki clothes.

"Can we – can we stop – just for a moment?" Draco pleaded, sweat running down his forehead.

Hermione laughed as if he'd said the funniest thing in the world. "Come on, honey. Keep going. Surely I should be the one who tires before you," she taunted.

"Ow. You're bruising my ego."

"Look! Snake!" Scorpius pointed out, excited. He rushed towards a baby snake curling around a tree branch. Neither Hermione nor Draco made any move to stop him as he tenderly uncoiled the snake and let it slither up his arms. He giggled.

"Oh, thank God," Draco sighed with relief, slumping to his knees. He knew that his pants would probably get stained from the mud and dead leaves on the ground, but he didn't care. The sweltering heat of the jungle caused a healthy pink flush to rise to his cheeks (and sweat to completely soak his clothes). Vines hung from thick branches everywhere and overgrown plants reached out at the family. Monkeys in the distance called out, accompanying the sounds of twittering birds and whatever other animals inhabited the jungle.

"Come on, Scor," Hermione said kindly, though she was looking at Draco mischievously. "You can play with Snakey while we walk."

"Okay," Scorpius agreed brightly, walking beside his smirking mother.

"Oh, you vicious b–" Draco started, but Hermione shot him a death stare. "Woman. Vicious woman," he corrected himself with a sigh, and wearily got off his knees.


	39. Adventure Time 2

**Adventure Time 2**

"So many fish, Mummy!" Scorpius screamed happily, jumping up and down.

"Hold still, darling," Hermione commanded, struggling to put the snorkel mask over her son's head. Eventually, she managed, and she adjusted it before put her own on. Then, with a squeal uncharacteristic of an adult, she plunged into the cold waters of Thailand without hesitation. Scorpius wasn't far behind. He dived in, crawling onto his mother's back. The bright coral waved at them slowly in the water, as if beckoning to them to come closer.

"Come on, Draco," Hermione coaxed, bobbing up and down with Scorpius giggling at the sight of a rainbow fish. Draco was sitting cautiously on the edge of the boat, staring at the water with disdain, as though it were sewer water. Other tourists were sliding themselves off the edges of the island hopping boat and into the bright blue water.

Draco not getting in was a violation of Hermione's Laws, stating that no money should be wasted, _especially_ on holiday.

"No," Draco said defiantly, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"Your daddy is a wimp," Hermione whispered to Scorpius, who laughed loudly and swam off to look at the fish.

"It's way too cold. And I don't fancy getting in that water. I can see plenty of fish and coral from here. You know they have sea urchins, don't you? Imagine getting one of those stuck in your foot – AHH!"

With a loud splash, Hermione violently pulled her husband into the water. His head broke the surface. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at him, despite his angry expression. His hair had gone crazy.

"Yay, Daddy's in the water!" Scorpius exclaimed, raising his head from the water. "Come see, Daddy, I think the rainbow fish like me!"

Laughing hysterically, Hermione climbed onto Draco's back while he reluctantly followed Scorpius. Her laugh was cut short, though, when he suddenly dived under, also submerging Hermione. He moved like a snake through the water, fast and slender.

When they broke the surface, Hermione slapped him on the shoulder furiously, still on his back. But she was happy to see the bright smile on his face.

"I'll still can't believe you pulled me in," he said, his smile turning into a fake scowl. As payback, he threw Hermione into the water. She rose, spitting out water and a colourful mixture of words as she chased after her laughing husband.

* * *

A/N: Ze Malfoy family on holidays, haha!


	40. Forbidden Forest

**Forbidden Forest**

The sound of a blood-curdling scream made Hermione freeze, her heart leaping to her throat. She willed her feet to move, but they wouldn't. Her own terror paralysed as her she stood, alone, in the middle of the misty Forbidden Forest. Dark and shadowy, it easily frightened any trespasser, especially when howls broke the eerie silence.

Loud, thumping footsteps approached her, making her heart flutter like mad. She tightened her grip on her lantern and wand, ready to hex whoever – or whatever – was coming, but she relaxed immediately when she noticed the person's blond hair. She'd never been so glad to see Malfoy.

"Malfoy," Hermione sighed with relief. "Why were you screaming?"

"T-t-there was a thing!" he stuttered with fright, peering at his surroundings as though whatever he ran from might jump out at any second.

"A _thing_?" Hermione repeated, cocking an eyebrow. "What type of '_thing_'?"

"A – a big, cloaked thing, drinking the blood from a unicorn. It came towards Potter, and he started moaning about his pathetic scar, and I ran because I was smart enough to save my own life!" Malfoy recounted.

"I'm... I'm sure Harry will be okay," Hermione said, though she was uncertain and it pained her to say such a thing. She had a feeling that Malfoy wouldn't know the way back to Harry. Plus, she had important things to do.

Then, she turned on her heel with a swish of her robes and walked in the opposite direction, letting the light of her lantern fall on the ground.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Malfoy sounded rather panicked.

Hermione shrugged. "Not sure yet."

"You're leaving me?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes. Unless you'd rather come, of course."

Malfoy crossed his arms and turned up his chin arrogantly. "I'd rather spend time with a Minotaur."

Hermione shrugged again. "Suit yourself."

She continued to walk purposefully but quietly, her steps making hardly any sound. Malfoy, however, was less careful, and Hermione could hear the leaves crunching under his feet with each rapid step.

"Okay, I changed my mind. I'm coming. Just for tonight, Granger. I will never accompany you again. I'm only doing it in case you die or something, so that I can go back to the school and tell them what happened," he said firmly.

Hermione scoffed, trying her best to peer into the darkness. Hermione knew he wanted nothing more than to be back in his dorm – actually, she felt the same way. "Yeah, right. You're too afraid to walk back to the school on your own. In fact, I doubt you even know the way."

"You wish, Granger," Malfoy shot defiantly. "I know the way. And I'm a Malfoy – Malfoys aren't scared of being alone... in the dark... with all the werewolves."

"Uh-huh, sure," Hermione said, walking faster. Malfoy struggled to keep up with her long, rapid strides.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"I told you, I don't know," Hermione replied nonchalantly.

"Let me rephrase. What are you doing alone in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Searching for unicorns."

"I know where one is," Malfoy stated.

"The one where Harry and the cloaked thing were?" Hermione asked. Malfoy nodded. "Point me in the right direction, then."

Malfoy lifted his arm, but it fell lamely to his side. "I can't remember where I came from."

Hermione almost smirked. It was just as she had suspected. "You sure you want to come, Malfoy? What if another scary cloaked thing frightens you off?"

"I wouldn't want you dying without a witness. Why are you looking for unicorns?" Malfoy asked, hastening to changed the subject.

Hermione paused, though she kept her walking speed the same. Should she tell him? Maybe he wouldn't press her for more details...

"I need some unicorn tail hair for a potion," Hermione worded cautiously.

"What potion?"

Hermione paled. She was glad that he was looking at the path, just as she was, so that he wouldn't see her white face.

"Um... Amortentia," Hermione lied, blurting out the first thing came to mind. The truth was, she was forming an invisibility potion that might aid the boys and herself in researching the Philosopher's Stone more.

"Amortentia?" Malfoy repeated, his brow furrowed. "Isn't that a sixth-year potion?"

"Yes, but..." Hermione desperately searched for an excuse. "You know me," she said, laughing nervously. "Always wanting to be prepared for future... studies."

"You want to be prepared _six years_ ahead?" Malfoy murmured disbelievingly. "Goodness, Granger. You're a little _too_ serious about your studies."

Hermione ignored him.

* * *

A/N: Fail ending... however, there will be a continuation, though possibly much shorter than this.


	41. Forbidden Forest 2

**Forbidden Forest 2**

They walked on in silence until they found a once beautiful and majestic unicorn lying motionless on the ground. It was slumped against a tree, its silver blood looking ethereal in the moonlight as it slowly slid down the tree trunk.

"Oh no," Hermione whispered. "This is so sad."

She set her lantern on the ground beside Malfoy, who stood a few feet away, but studied the unicorn curiously. Hermione rushed over to the dead creature, plunging her fingers into one of the pools of blood. It shined around her fingers like a beautiful, melting ring, dripping back into the puddle. Hermione had once imagined the blood to thin like water, when in truth it was thick and gooey like sludge.

"What'd you do that for?" Malfoy asked, setting his lantern down and kneeling down at the other side of the unicorn.

"Sheer curiosity," Hermione replied, wiping her fingers on the tree trunk. Malfoy was tentatively poking the pool of silver. "What are _you_ doing _that_ for?"

"Same reason. Curiosity."

He wiped his fingers on the tree and moved his pale hands over the body of the unicorn. Hermione copied him, feeling the poor creature's smooth skin and short, soft fur.

"She's beautiful," Malfoy whispered, examining the unicorn's head and stroking it like a pet – sadly, a deceased one.

"Such a waste, killing a creature like this one just to drink the blood," Hermione sighed, agreeing with Malfoy's statement. Hermione reached into her robes, pulled out a pair of scissors and snipped off a single, silver unicorn tail hair.

"I think we should go," Hermione said, taking one last, sad look at the unicorn before getting to her feet.

Malfoy nodded, running his fingers through the silver mane. He picked up his lantern and joined Hermione, who had her wand out.

"_Point me!_" she muttered. The wand swung itself to the left. Hermione pointed to their right.

"We go that way to get back to the castle," Hermione informed her companion, scooping up her lantern. Malfoy fell into step beside her.

"That's a clever spell. Where'd you learn it?" Malfoy asked curiously.

The corners of Hermione's mouth rose. "I invented it."

"Oh," Malfoy said bewildered.

Silence, for a moment.

"Thank you for letting me come with you," Malfoy said.

"Letting you?" Hermione echoed. "You insisted on being the witness to my death."

Malfoy laughed. "I lied. Of course you know I lied. I really didn't know the way back, and I was quite frightened."

"Well..." Hermione said, bewildered. "That's quite a confession, coming from you."

"You're all right, you know that, Granger? But you can't tell anyone about anything I said to you," Malfoy commanded.

Hermione grinned. "I swear to keep your secrets. They can stay hidden here, deep in the Forest."

Malfoy looked relieved.

"And sometimes, Malfoy, you can be kind of all right, too."

* * *

A/N: Thanks sassyunicorn72, your reviews made _my_ day. (:

Also, I realise Hermione probably didn't create the Point Me spell until fourth year, but we can disregard that fact for this fic. (;


	42. Glass Half Empty

**Glass Half Empty**

"Talk to me, Draco," Hermione groaned frustratedly, burying her face into a cushion. They sat in their common room, Draco reading a wizarding fiction book.

"Granger," Draco eventually said, exciting Hermione at the sound of his voice. "Why are you so–?"

"Annoying? Talkative? Dirty-blooded?" Hermione suggested, though there was a grin stretched across her face. She'd been trying to get the Head Boy to talk for weeks.

"Young at heart," Draco finished, glaring at her.

"Young at heart?" Hermione echoed, bemused. "What do you mean by that?"

"What do you think I mean, Granger?" Draco said exasperatedly. "You have the qualities one usually associates with younger people, such as optimism and... enthusiasm."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Hmm... Well, I try to see the good in everything."

"But you look past the bad in everything. Doesn't it make you sad when people choose to act on their bad side?" Draco asked. "Pessimism would make you happier; you brace yourself for the worst scenario, and what actually happens will almost always turn out better than what you expected."

"Are you a pessimist, Draco?"

The blond wizard considered this. Finally, he shook his head. "No, I'm a realist. Still better than an optimist."

Hermione smiled sadly. "I think you're a pessimist, Draco. When you're an optimist, you get to enjoy the good things in life and get over the bad things. For example, if your parents died in a car crash but you survived, an optimist would say, 'I survived! I'm lucky!' while a pessimist would say, 'I have rotten luck – my parents are dead.' And they wouldn't stop to think about their good luck surviving."

Draco stayed silent.

"Maybe you should become an optimist, Draco," Hermione suggested.

"Maybe," he said. He returned to his book, ending the conversation. Hermione was content; at least it had been something.

* * *

A/N: Umm, not sure whether or not I like this one. It's a slightly odd conversation.


	43. Jealous

**Jealous**

Hermione entwined her fingers with Ron. He was a great guy, despite his issues with jealousy, yet Hermione's heart belonged to another. It was sad, really. Her feelings for Ron had taken six years to show, and then someone else came along and stole away Hermione's heart. Just like she was stealing away Ron's.

"Today was fun, Ron," Hermione said with a genuine smile. Inside, though, she felt like she was about to cry. She thought of him as nothing but a friend.

"It was," Ron agreed.

And then all of a sudden he was leaning in closer, closer–

_This is wrong! This is disgusting! He's my friend! _screamed the thoughts in Hermione's head.

"Hello," said a cold voice. Hermione jumped away from Ron at once.

"Hello," Hermione greeted nervously, watching Draco walk towards them.

"Am I interrupting something?" Draco asked in that tone that Hermione hated the most. The tone that made someone sound casual and contained, yet about to explode in a violent BOOM!

Hermione and Ron spoke in unison.

"No–" Hermione answered quickly.

"Yes," Ron spat, his voice coated with thick poison.

"Ron... Ron, maybe you should leave," Hermione suggested softly, looking down at the extremely interesting floorboards.

Ron shot Draco one last icy look before leaving in a rage.

"I didn't want to kiss him, Draco," Hermione told him honestly. "He's just my friend."

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "Right. That's why you just stood there, waiting for him to put his slobbery lips all over yours."

Hermione frowned. "I'm telling the truth, Draco. And what's it to you if someone kisses me?"

"What's it to me?" Draco repeated incredulously. "I think it's my business if the person I share a common room with decides to make out with someone."

"You're not my father," Hermione said firmly and coldly.

Draco laughed again without a trace of humour. "You're so – you're so _blind_, Hermione. You can't see what's right in front of your eyes. You wouldn't notice if I slapped you in the face with a rotten fish."

"Notice what?" Hermione asked, her brows crinkling together in confusion.

"Six years, Hermione. _Six years._"

"What about six years?" Hermione demanded, growing increasingly impatient.

"Six years, I've loved you," he spat, his eyes growing dark with fury.

"Loved me? Are you bloody kidding me?" Hermione laughed harshly. "You expect me to notice that when you call me Mudblood all the time, and make me feel worthless?"

"Ever heard the saying that teasing is a boy's way of showing affection?" Draco asked condescendingly.

Hermione scoffed. "The way to a girl's heart is not by stepping all over her."

"How else could I act around you? You were a bloody Gryffindor, a Muggle-born. And I was a Slytherin, a pureblood and a Malfoy. If anyone found out I loved you, I would be dead instantly."

Hermione took a single step towards him and slapped him, hard. Her expression looked like it could have been carved out of ice.

"You're lying to me, Draco," Hermione hissed. "I know you are. What about Parkinson? And that Greengrass girl?"

"I was _trying to make you jealous!_" he yelled in her face.

Hermione, shocked, gaped at him like an idiot. He stormed into his room and slammed his door shut, leaving her by herself. She was so alone.


	44. Not Long Now

**Not Long Now**

Hermione crinkles her nose.

"The Malfoy family practices chastity?" she says, surprise written all over her face.

"Sadly, yes," Draco sighs. "_But_, it's not the main definition of chastity."

"And that would be...?"

"Refraining from sex. All the time," Draco answers.

"What does chastity mean in our case?" Hermione asks curiously.

"Refraining from sex before marriage," Draco replies with a grin. "How else do you think we make babies?"

Hermione grins cheekily. "So all we need to do is get married."

Draco nods. "That's right." Hermione glances at her diamond engagement ring.

"Not long now," she whispers excitedly, before launching herself at her fiancé and knocking him to his back on their bed.

* * *

A/N: Well, that was an awkward prompt. Chastity. I had no idea what to write.


	45. What the Camera Caught

**What the Camera Caught**

"What are you showing me?" a fifty-year-old Draco asked as his wife rummaged through their drawers.

"Patience, dear," Hermione said, looking through her assortment of photo albums. "Ah! Here!"

She sat next to her husband and presented the album to Draco, who examined the cover curiously. On the front was a moving picture of Hogwarts, the trees swaying with the breeze and clouds floating lazily around the turrets.

"Do you remember Colin Creevey?" Hermione asked.

Draco shook his head.

"He had a camera. He used to take a lot of pictures of Harry."

"Oh, yeah! I remember now," Draco said. "He died during the Final Battle, though, didn't he?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but his brother, Dennis, didn't. He recently made copies of all the photos Colin took and sent them to every person Colin knew. I was one of them."

Draco turned the page. The first picture was of Colin and Dennis together, smiling. More family photos followed. Then there were pictures of the Sorting, of Harry, of Lockhart, and all the teachers.

Hermione turned the page for him. There, Ron was vomiting up slugs (Colin had evidently managed to sneak a photo), preceded by a photo of Draco and his Quidditch team. The next photo showed Draco calling Hermione a Mudblood, and the final one on the page was of Slytherin and Gryffindor in a heated brawl.

Hermione pointed to the photo of Draco insulting herself.

"Remember that?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Draco sighed.

"I loved you, even back then when you hardly showed it. I hated myself for loving you. I felt so twisted and odd... Of course I didn't know back then that it was love, but later on I realised it was."

Draco looked at his wife. Blinked.

"And," Hermione continued, "I knew I could never tell anyone I had feelings for you, because you really were horrible back then. No offence," she added.

"None taken."

"But then, we became Heads together, and I got to know you, and I thought maybe my love for you wasn't so twisted after all."

Draco laughed. "Our love always has been, and always will be, very, very twisted."

Hermione smirked with agreement and turned the page.


	46. Library Wars

**Library Wars**

Hermione sat down at her usual table in the library, thumping a load of Arithmancy books onto the desk. She huffed with annoyance as she heard the usual giggles of Krum's fan club disrupting her peace. Why did Krum even come to the library? Hermione thought that Quidditch stars avoided libraries like they were buckets of excrement. All he did was sit there while his irritating, giggly fans threw themselves at his feet.

Setting her half-complete essay in front of her, Hermione opened a book at began to read, occasionally writing a neat sentence or two. She hoped that, with some diligence, she might be able to finish her essay today, even with the squeals and giggles coming from her left.

A bit further away sat Draco Malfoy, his eyes narrowing in scrutinisation as he watched Hermione Granger, her tendrils falling in front of her face. He tapped his pen on his desk softly, keeping her in his field of vision. He tried his best not to look like he was swooning because of her; he had his library books and essays in front of him as an excuse for why he came to the library.

A few feet away sat Krum, surrounded by his atrociously noisy fan club. Draco's eyes narrowed even more as he saw that Krum was looking past one of his fan club members. He followed Krum's line of vision and clenched his pen tightly when he realised that Krum was staring at Hermione.

Suddenly, Krum looked up. Draco sneered. The war was on.

Their target? Hermione Granger.


	47. The End of the Beginning

**The End of the Beginning**

"Come away with me," Hermione said softly.

She and Draco stood beside a steaming cauldron, chopping up some strange plant or other. The whole classroom was full of noise; of laughter, of instructions being read out, and of explosions (mostly coming from Seamus' direction).

Draco and Hermione kept their heads down as they concentrated on perfectly chopping up the ingredients. They didn't want anyone nearby hearing their conversation.

"What?" Draco said, dumbfounded.

"You heard me," Hermione whispered, her slender hands sprinkling some herbs into the bright blue potion.

"I..." Draco couldn't say anything. What Hermione had just suggested was huge.

"We could start fresh. We could go to France. I know the language pretty well. We could walk to Hogsmeade and Floo from there to Paris," Hermione planned excitedly.

Draco looked up. Hermione's smile stretched her mouth as she squashed some beans with the palm of her hand. He considered her offer.

She had always surprised him with her never-ending kindness, and this could be his chance to pay her back. There was nothing here for him, anyway. He hated his family, and his "friends" were more like... "acquaintances". Plus, he'd always wanted to see Paris.

"Okay," Draco agreed.

His answer surprised Hermione so much that she let the beans under her hand squirm away.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then... let's go."

Hermione took his hand, and they turned away from their cauldron. Draco would remember that moment forever. He would remember it as it were burned onto the back of his eyelids; the slow, cautious steps he took alongside Hermione, the astonished and perplexed looks on his fellow students' faces, the final explosion from Seamus' cauldron.

And, as if in a dream, the two left England behind. Together.


	48. Let's Dance

**Let's Dance**

"Care to dance?"

"Certainly."

Hermione placed one hand in Draco's and the other on his shoulder. They weaved through the crowd, twirling and stepping with impeccable skill.

"You know what astounds me most, Granger?" Draco murmured as they swept through the mass of other dancing couples together.

"What?"

"Your generosity."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

"Well–" he spun Hermione, "–you aren't exactly the richest of people here. Yet you give like you can never lose anything."

"It's a well-known fact that poor people are often the most generous," Hermione remarked.

Draco nodded his head in agreement. "That's true."

"What astounds me, Malfoy, is your skill at ballroom dancing." Twirl. Step. Twirl. Step. Step. Step.

He grinned slyly. "You've only seen the surface of what I can do."

And then Hermione groaned as Latin music replaced the classical music. This was going to be _entertaining_, to say the least.


	49. First and Maybe Last Time

**First and Maybe Last Time**

They sat in a compartment of their own. Beyond the window, rolling hills of spectacular green clashes with unblemished blue of the sky.

"Draco," Hermione said, hesitating. "Next year – next year I'm not coming back. I have something that needs to be done with Harry and Ron."

"What is it?" Draco inquired curiously, watching his Chocolate Frog bound into Hermione's hand. She ate it, grinning slightly sadly.

"I can't tell you yet. Next year, though, it's definitely going to be different. With Dumbledore gone, the place won't be the same. Just makes it easier for me to let go of Hogwarts," Hermione sighed, gazing out at the window. "I'm not going to see you until after our... _task_ is complete, but I don't know if I'll even be alive afterwards."

Draco froze. "What's the task?" he demanded insistently.

"I can't tell you. Oh, Draco, I wish I could, but... You-Know-Who, he can look into your mind..."

Draco sighed. "I suppose you're right."

"We've been meeting each other practically every night. And suddenly, we won't be. That's going to hard for me," Hermione confessed.

"Same for me."

"Just as – as a parting gift, will you kiss me? For the first and maybe last time?"

Draco looked quite surprised. "We never did kiss, did we?"

"No, we didn't," Hermione said, smiling faintly.

"Come here, then."

Hermione, her smile widening, got off her seat and sat next to Draco. They leaned in together, and when their lips touched, Hermione felt like nothing in the entire world mattered – just for that small moment.


	50. Eternity

**Eternity**

She lied.

She said they were going to be together for eternity.

Draco sat in the chair the furthest away from the coffin, clenching his black umbrella tightly. The rain fell down in torrents, simply strengthening the melancholy mood at the funeral. Everywhere, people were looking at the speech-giver sadly or crying, their tears disguised by the rain. Everyone wore black, including Draco. But he also wore a red tie, because that was Hermione's favourite colour.

Red for Gryffindor.

Red for bravery.

Red for passion.

Red for love.

Red for blood.

Red for _Hell_.

Draco couldn't and didn't want to focus on the person up at the front, droning on about how great a person Hermione had been. This guy had hardly known Hermione at all.

He willed himself not to cry. Hermione wouldn't have wanted that. Even in her death, Draco felt like she was still there. Right in front of him, but always _just_ out of reach.

* * *

_Hermione sat in the library as she always did, scribbling away furiously on a new sheaf of parchment._

_Draco abruptly sat next to her._

"_Dinner, Granger?" he asked, smiling slightly._

_He was surprised by her answer._

"_O-Okay."_

* * *

_Hermione danced in a field of barley, singing an Irish folk song. She twirled around and around under the sky, Draco smiling at how free she looked. A great willow stood right in the middle of the field, looking extremely out of place. Hermione did cartwheels and Draco was perplexed as to how she didn't fall over. He'd never seen such a thing before. Cartwheels were odd._

_She grinned and skipped over to him, encircling her arms around his neck. Her bright eyes looked into his silver ones._

_Both were thinking how beautiful the other person was._

"_You and I are going to be together for eternity," she whispered in his ear._

* * *

"_Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take Draco Lucius Malfoy to be your lawfully wedded husband?"_

"_I do."_

"_And do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take Hermione Jean Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife?"_

"_You bet I do."_

* * *

Ring ring. Ring ring.

_Draco flipped open the phone._

"_Draco Malfoy speaking."_

"_Good evening, this is the police. May we ask how you're connected to Hermione Malfoy?"_

"_She's my wife."_

"_Mr. Malfoy, we are sorry to inform you that your wife has just died in a car crash."_

"_You're lying."_

"_Sorry, sir–"_

_Draco took one look at the phone before smashing it into the wall with all his might._

* * *

People were leaving. The funeral was over.

Draco sat there. As the sky darkened with the promise of night, some Muggles came over to bury the coffin. Draco watched them heave into the damp dirt and flick up the shovels, adding fresh dirt to a steadily growing pile.

He was sent into a stupor as he watched their repetitive actions. Heave. Flick. Heave. Flick.

And all of a sudden, they were finished. The coffin had already been lowered into the ground, a cross at the head. The shovellers left, their work there done.

Draco waited until they were all gone until he stood up, his muscles stretching, and walked towards Hermione's grave. He conjured a wreath of roses and placed at the bottom of the cross. There was no tombstone.

Draco conjured one and placed it beside the cross. With his wand, he wrote:

"R.I.P. Hermione Jean Granger Malfoy. May your loved ones be with you for eternity."

Then he sighed and hugged his knees to his chest beside the grave.

* * *

_6 months later_

He couldn't see. He couldn't open his eyes. There was a searing pain, not just from one source, but all over his body. He was enveloped by the pain.

"What happened?" said a frantic female voice.

_Mother... help me..._

"He was hit by a car. That's what the Muggles are saying," said a grim male.

_Father..._

"Save him!" Draco's mother cried out. "SAVE HIM!" Her voice had risen to a scream.

The next voice was sad and apologetic. A Muggle nurse. "We're sorry, ma'am, but the wounds are too great."

"Is he going to... to die?" said Draco's father.

No one replied.

A smile tugged at Draco's lips as the world suddenly changed from pitch black to a blinding but welcoming white. Out of the light, a sand-coloured hand reached out at Draco, beckoning him closer. Hermione's hand.

Draco took it and walked with his wife into the blissful land of nothingness. He realised that she had never lied. They really were going to be together for eternity.

* * *

A/N: A fic where both Draco and Hermione die! I know, I'm horrible, but at least they're together in the end. Also, I have no idea how funerals work, nor burials, nor your-loved-one-has-died calls from the police, so I apologise for any wrong facts.

Well, it has been a wonderful journey writing these 50 moments! This fic makes me the first to complete Gamma Orionis' OTP Boot Camp. Shoutouts to:

My wonderful reviewers; sassyunicorn72, HPFangirling, StarsOfMagic, itsverity, sexymarauders and Guest;

My amazing followers; Azrael-Doll, HPFangirling, Moonblaize, Realityorfiction, StarsOfMagic, Whatever Way the Wind Blows, broadwaygirl6582, itsverity, kakashisnumber1fangirl, pirya29, sexymarauders and v0lpe;

My lonesome yet epic favouriters; kakashisnumber1fangirl and sexymarauders;

Everyone single person who took the time to read this fic;

And all my future favouriters, reviewers and readers!

**Over and out!**


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